


Colors

by imnotpoppunk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: College AU, Depression, Gay, M/M, Ryden, Rydon, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, blind, fraternities, mild violence, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 58,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotpoppunk/pseuds/imnotpoppunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon Urie is awkward, clumsy, fashionably inept, and hopelessly in love with art. As a freshman in college, he's hoping to get his life together, yet he's so far from it. At least that's what he thinks. </p><p>Maybe Ryan Ross, the visually-impaired optimist, could be just what he needs and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So I just want to point out, that I originally wrote this as a story on Wattpad for another ship. However, I'm not into that ship anymore and I loved writing the story so much I want to re-write it on here. It was probably the most popular story I wrote on that site with over 140,000 reads. Anyway, I just wanted to point that out, just in case someone noticed. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, that being said, updates should come quick because all I need to do in order to post is edit :)

I stepped back from the canvas in front of me, mindlessly chewing on the paintbrush between my teeth. I knitted my eyebrows together, concentrating hard on the splashes of red and yellow and orange across the canvas. My next move was on the tip of my tongue and I was so close to breaking through that final creative block– to creating the masterpiece I was so sure about. 

"Bren, I think you're at a good stopping point," the TA for my art class, Jon Walker, laughed as he pulled me from my concentration. Jon was super laid-back, and probably one of my favorite art teachers. The best of the best. I looked up and smiled.

"Just like, five more minutes," I insisted, before turning back to my canvas. "I'm on the brink of something great, here."

"That's awesome, however, the class ended ten minutes ago and I know very well that you have a class to get to, when does it start again?" he sighed, checking his watch. This was a predicament I had run into many times before. 

I looked up at him with wide eyes and it registered in my mind that I needed to book it out of there. “Shit.” 

I wasn't exactly the most punctual person as it was, and I don't know what possessed me to add my stupid Philosophy 100 class directly after my painting class. For me, art class was always the hardest to leave because I was just so into it. I loved art so much.

"Oh my god," I groaned, running over to the sink to wash my brushes. "Crap."

"Brendon, just leave those there and I'll pick them up," Jon insisted. "Get out of here! Don't fail your other classes, we've already had this discussion!"

"Right, right, I know!" I said, exasperated as I threw my belongings into my book bag haphazardly. I slung the sack over my shoulder and ran out the door. I promised Jon that I'd swing by later to clean up more.

I ran out of the art building, already flustered, and went to grab my bike off the rack. I grabbed a hold of it and pulled, yet was met with resistance because I forgot about the bike lock. I groaned and set my book bag down so I could rummage for my key. Once I found it, I unlocked the bike and hopped on, speeding across campus to the philosophy building.

I rode up and parked at the rack, before running inside. I was completely out of breath and sweating as I entered the lecture hall full of people just staring up at me, including the professor.

"Is there a reason, Mr . . .what is your name? "

"Brendon Urie," I gasped, still in the process of catching my breath.

"Right, Mr. Urie, is there a reason you're busting in here so late? Class started ten minutes ago," he pointed out. The professor was this stern old man and the crooked scowl he gave me made me so uncomfortable. I felt my face burning red as I felt everyone's eyes boring into me.

"I just lost track of time," I said, sheepishly. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I'm sure," he said, smugly. "Find a seat . . . by the way, you might want to wash that paint off your face."

My eyes widened in horror as my hand flew to my face. I definitely felt remnants of dried paint. Fuck. Either way, there was no time to wash it off now, so I just continued on to the first empty seat I found. It was embarrassing, but I guess it could have been worse. People seemed to stop staring as soon as the professor dove back into the lecture.

I held an internal sigh as I pulled out my notebook and started scribbling down notes. This was by far my least favorite class, because I never quite understood what he was talking about. Because it was such a big class, there wasn't enough time to ask questions and my TA for discussion sections kind of really sucked.

It was very easy to lose focus, too. I found myself unintentionally drowning out the sound of the professor's voice, drawing elaborate doodles over the entire page. Doodling was way more interesting than class, anyway.

I had never really seen myself as good at anything besides art, honestly. I struggled with math, my writing skills sucked . . . I mean I guess for the most part I was fine with it. I loved art enough to make up for my lack of skills and passion in other areas. Sometimes it could be discouraging, though. 

Toward the end of the lecture, I noticed a guy sitting in the row in front of me. I hadn't picked him out of the crowd before, but I was now that I noticed something interesting.  
He wasn't even taking notes! He just sat there, leaned back and with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked so casual and relaxed and I decided there was no way he was sleeping or just blowing off the class. I wondered if he was good at philosophy and didn't need notes . . . and I really needed a tutor.

I waited a few minutes, until professor dismissed class. I packed up my stuff quickly and waited for the people next to this guy to move. Once they were out of the way, I jumped over the row and sat down in the seat next to him.

"Hi," I said, cheerfully, watching as he pulled sunglasses out of his backpack and put them on his face. It reminded me that I had sunglasses somewhere . . . now where they were was an absolute mystery.

"Hey . . . Brendon right?" he said, grinning. His voice was cool and casual and it sort of caught me off guard in a way I couldn’t describe.

"How do you know my name?" I wanted to know.

"I heard the professor talking to you when you came in late . . . that was you, right?" he asked. I nodded, embarrassed. He just grinned and shook his head. 

"Anyway . . . I just wanted to ask you how you're doing in this class . . . I notice you don't take notes," I said, smiling sweetly. Hopefully a friendly smile would give me an edge. 

"I've got someone taking notes for me," he shrugged.

"Really? Is that allowed?" I asked, my mind reeling as I thought of ways I could get someone to take notes for me, too. Maybe there was some secret way to get that to happen, hell I would even be willing to pay for something that helpful. I liked to make a habit of keeping my morals in check, but I just couldn’t concentrate in philosophy for the life of me. 

"Well, yeah, I mean I physically cannot take notes, obviously, " he chuckled as he stood up. I stood up, too, and found that he was a couple inches taller than me, with messy brown hair and a slight air of perfection. Man I didn’t realize –wait. 

"Obviously?" I questioned. I couldn't imagine how someone would be physically unable to take notes. I mean his arms looked fine . . . He seemed to be competent enough. And as soon as I said that, I felt bad because what if he had some sort of learning disability and I was being rude and insensitive–

"Dude, I'm _blind_ ," he laughed, taking off the sunglasses. I was honestly shocked by his statement, though it was more obvious when he took his sunglasses off. His eyes looked relatively normal, yet they were unfocused, almost as if he were looking through me rather than at me.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to come across as like, insensitive or anything," I said, panicking a little. Yikes! 

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. He put his sunglasses back on and threw his backpack over his shoulders. We started moving and I watched as he ran his hand lightly along the back row of chairs. Once he got to the end of the row, he pulled something out of his pocket, which he revealed to be a foldable walking stick. He unfolded it expertly and began using it to test the space in front of him as he made his way to the front of the room.

"How did I not notice this before?" I wondered out loud as I walked with him out of the classroom.

"Well, for starters, you don't strike me as the most observant person ever," he joked. Well, at least he didn’t seem to be offended by me. That was good. 

"Hey!" I whined, a little pathetically as I went over to the bike rack. As I grabbed it, I realized it was only leaning against the bar, rather than locked to it. "Oh, shoot, I forgot to lock my bike . . . I guess I got lucky, huh?"

"Yep, my point exactly," he teased, his lips pulling into a short grin. "Well, I've got to head off to another class."

"Okay! Yeah, I'll see you Wednesday," I said, smiling. This guy was actually really nice!

"Yep, I'll see you - I mean, I won't, but you know what I mean," he smirked, starting to walk away as I realized something. I gasped and set my bike down to catch up with him for a moment.

"Wait, I'm sorry, what's your name?" I asked, eager to know. 

"I'm Ryan."


	2. Chapter Two

"Oh my god, what are you wearing?" My roommate, Dallon, scoffed as he re-entered our dorm room. I frowned and looked down at my clothes. I was wearing a pair of relatively plain-looking jeans paired with a purple t-shirt and a mustard-yellow cardigan. 

"What's wrong with it?" I whined, giving him a small pout. I, for one, loved this cardigan a lot. It was big and warm and fluffy. On top of that, yellow and purple were complimentary colors, so obviously they looked fine together. 

"Oh, nothing . . . "Dallon sighed, already surrendering that argument. "Are you ready to go or not?"

"Yep!" I chirped. "Let me just put my shoes on."

I went to find my normal black canvas shoes, but for some reason I was only able to find one of them. I looked by the door and under the bed and even in the closet, but I still couldn't locate it.

"What now?" Dallon asked.

"I'm missing my other shoe," I said, checking under the bed. Did I already check there or not? I didn't know. "Crap."

"Just grab another pair of shoes, come on," he sighed. "Dude, you said you'd be ready by the time got back."

"I know, I know! I'm sorry," I said, opening my closet door and just pulling out the first pair of shoes I could find. That pair of shoes happened to be a pair of bright red converse, but it was okay. It would just mean that I had two of the three primary colors in my outfit . . . unless I changed my shirt to blue . . .

"Brendon," Dallon groaned, growing impatient. I shook the idea from my head and just put the red shoes on anyway. My outfit would just have to do.

Once I finally had my shoes on, I followed Dallon out of our dorm and down the hall. We were on our way to this party someone was having in one of the off-campus apartments. The plan was to catch the night bus and ride it a couple of stops down to where the party was. I guess Dallon was trying to buddy up to these couple of frat guys before rush week started.  
I didn't really care about the whole fraternity thing, but I knew it meant a lot to Dallon. Apparently his dad was a part of this one, and if he didn't get a bid he'd be devastated. I had become friends with Dallon when we were sophomores in high school, so I had heard a lot about this whole legacy thing for a while now. Dallon was honestly my best friend, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do without him. 

"Ooh, Dallon!" I gasped, remembering something as we stood next to each other on the bus. "I forgot to tell you about the guy I met today!"

"Like, just a guy . . . or like, a _guy_?" he asked, curiously, his lips curling into a wry grin. I shrugged.

"I don't know yet, I mean I guess he was kind of cute," I shrugged, bashfully, remembering how soft his skin looked. "He was nice, but I doubt it would go anywhere. He seems like the type that's nice to everyone, you know?"

"Well, I guess you never know," he said, offering as much encouragement as he could. I nodded along with him as the bus arrived at our stop.

The party was a block away, and a quick walk from the bus stop. Even before we got to the apartment, I could hear music blaring, and I wondered how the people who lived around them could possibly put up with that. I mean, they were student apartments, so they were probably used to it, but still. I knew I wouldn't like it. I didn’t even really like the idea of going into the obnoxious party at all, honestly.

"Okay, so we hit the kitchen first, only take beer or hard liquor. Nothing fruity or these guys won't take us seriously," Dallon said, giving me the run-down as we approached.

"No lime-a-ritas?" I asked, thinking about the drink that I had tried at the first party we went to. Truth be told, I didn't like the taste of beer. I thought it was nasty. And did it really matter what I drank? It wasn’t like I was trying to get into the fraternity. 

"Definitely not," Dallon insisted.

"What about hard lemonade - or ooh! What if they have the strawberry ones?" I asked, excitedly. I meant, what was the point if I didn't like the taste?

"Bren, no," he said, again. I sighed.

"Okay, fine," I said. "Only for you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, I really do," he assured me, giving me a friendly smile before we finally went in. I smiled back at him, silently letting him know that I was happy to help. I was alsways happy to make him happy. 

The place was small and smoky, but I guess it wasn't too bad. I followed Dallon into the kitchen where the alcohol was and he handed me a beer from the cooler that was left out.  
I forced a smile and cracked open the can. He clinked his can against mine, then nodded towards the other room. I forced down a small sip of the drink as we walked into the living room. Dallon approached these two guys, acting all friendly and giving them both hearty handshakes.

"Hey, man, glad you could make it," the first guy said, grinning. He was blond and had a weird hairstyle. The guy that stood next him was a little bit bigger and had his arms folded over his chest. They were both dressed in those weird frat-guy shirts with the whales on them. I never understood what the deal was with that.

"And this is my roommate, Brendon," he said, as the guys turned to me and grinned. They didn't offer the same sort of greeting, but I tried not to think anything of it.

"Hi," I said, cheerfully. "This is great beer."

"You think Natty Lite is great beer?" the bigger guy chuckled, which confused me. I tried to wrack my brain for a more appropriate response, but came up fruitless. Dang it.

"Yes! Or . . . no? Maybe?" I shrugged. I was so confused.

"He meant, like, great choice, cheap choice!" Dallon said, trying to salvage whatever mistake I had just made. He then opted to throw an arm around my shoulders and steer me out of the room.

"What did I do?" I hissed.

"Natty Lite is shit beer, Brendon," he said, in a low voice. "You don't compliment a man's beer choice like that, it's weird."

"Oh, I was just trying to be nice," I said, pouting.

"I know you were," he said. "Just. . . don't talk about beer, okay? Um, I'm going to go back and talk to them. You can just . . . "

He trailed off, as if he felt bad about splitting up. Even though I felt bad for embarrassing him, I smiled.

"It's okay, go ahead, I'll entertain myself," I said. He thanked me before heading out of the kitchen again.

I sighed and walked over to the sink. I dumped the drink down the sink, physically unable to drink anymore of it. Then, I went back to one of the other coolers and found the hard lemonade, so I just took one of those. I guess if Dallon was going to be with his frat friends, then it didn't matter.

I didn't know anyone else at the party, so I took a seat at one of the barstools at the island counter. The lemonade was good, but I still felt kind of down. I really was trying to be likeable, I guess not everyone liked me, though.

"Is this seat taken?" I heard someone ask. I didn't think anything of it, so I just shrugged without looking up. A moment later, though, I looked to my left, surprised to see Ryan sitting next to me.

"You!" I exclaimed, unable to say anything more intelligent than that.

"Yes, me!" he said, trying to match my excitement. "I'm sorry, remind me of your name?"

"Brendon!" I said, speaking up and over the loudness. I suddenly forgot about Dallon and his friends now that I was talking to Ryan. He was really cool and I didn't expect to see him there. The fact that he was just made my night even better. 

"Oh, yeah, philosophy right?" he said, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"My roommate wants to get into some frat," I sighed. "And I guess he's talking to them or something."

"And you're in here sitting by yourself?" he questioned.

"What? No, I've totally got other friends," I lied, trying to see if maybe I could fool Ryan into thinking I was cool.

"Brendon, I'm blind, not stupid," he laughed. "Want to go outside for a bit?"

"Uh, sure?" I said, hopping off my chair and picking up my lemonade. Ryan followed me out, and I found it interesting that he wasn't using his walking stick, like I'd seen him use the other day.

We walked out onto the front steps of the building and sat down. The nighttime air felt so much nicer than the smoky, stuffy air inside.

"So, what are you doing at this party?" I asked, not wanting to offend him by asking where his walking stick thing was.

"I live here," he said. "My step-brother's one of my roommates and is trying to get in this same frat, so they're always throwing parties. I don't mind."

"Are you in it?" I asked. He just laughed.

"Oh god, no, they're all idiots. They're nice guys, but they're total idiots," he explained, shaking his head. "I'm guessing you're not here to kiss up for a bid, either, huh?"

"Oh no, I'm not really bidding material anyway," I shrugged. "It's okay."

"You say that like it's a negative thing," Ryan pointed out. I just shrugged, then realized he couldn't see that. Oops.

"Yeah, I don't know," I said.

"What's with the tone? You sound sad," he said, picking up on it right away. It kind of creeped me out, too, because I didn't know anyone who was that perceptive.

"I don't know, I guess I was just trying to help my friend and I kind of failed. I think I embarrassed him," I sighed.

"Oh, well I'm sure you didn't. Plus, if he's your friend then he'll be cool with it, won't he?" Ryan suggested. I stared at the concrete in front of me, trying to think of something to say. "I get it."

"You do?" I asked, looking back up.

"Yeah, you're a people-pleaser," he shrugged. I frowned.

"What does that mean?" I asked, a little defensively. Ryan just chuckled, and I realized how much I liked his laugh. It was nice, airy, care-free.

"You like to make other people happy," he said. "But, it's okay, we can talk about something else if you want. . . so what's your major, Brendon?"

"Um, studio art," I said, confused yet thankful for his subject change. "I like painting and stuff."

"That's really great," he said, smiling. I liked that response. I was used to the typical 'oh, but what kind of job will you get with that' spiel. It felt nice to have someone appreciate it even if it was a little bit.

"What's yours?"

"American Sign Language!" he proclaimed, grinning proudly. I opened my mouth to comment, wondering how in the hell he could communicate in sign language if he was blind.

"O-oh, okay," I mumbled, not wanting to be rude. Who knew- maybe he was capable and I just didn’t know anything. To my surprise, he laughed again.

"I'm joking, I always tell people that because it confuses the fuck out of them," he laughed. "Nah, I'm a comm major."

"Oh, cool!" I said, smiling. Ryan had a sense of humor, too. That was great.

I spent the rest of the evening talking with Ryan, until Dallon was ready to go home. I felt like Ryan and I clicked instantly, and it was an amazing feeling. I didn't feel like he was someone I just met. I felt like I'd known him forever.


	3. Chapter Three

I ran a brush haphazardly through my hair, not really bothering to get it all the way smoothed out. Part of that was because I didn't care all that much, and another part was that I was just terrible at fixing my own hair. I liked it a little messy, anyways. 

"Hey Dallon?" I said, turning to him. He cocked his head to the side like he was listening; yet he was still typing away at the Macbook in his lap. "Does this shirt make me look like Andy Warhol?" 

"What- No, Brendon," Dallon groaned, looking up from his laptop. He looked over my outfit, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "You are not wearing a turtleneck." 

I just shrugged and grabbed my backpack. I had to get to my studio art class. I guess it didn't really matter what I was wearing because I was just going to throw a smock on over everything. Well, I guess I was excited to see Ryan afterwards, but . . . wait, no that didn't matter either. 

"Well, I like it. I think it's kinda cool," I chuckled as he just shook his head. 

"Whatever you say, man," he said, though I noticed a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"Alright, well thanks anyway," I smiled, walking out the door. "See ya later, Dallon." 

He mumbled a weak 'see ya' in response and I was off. I got down to the front of my building and unlocked my bike. The art building was kind of far from my dorm, but that was okay. I needed the exercise. I was pretty sure I was incapable of any other sort of physical activity, anyway. 

I entered the classroom and found a spot next to my easel and dropped my stuff to the ground. From there, I grabbed a smock and my paintbrushes that I kept in a lock box in one of the cabinets. Jon let me keep my stuff in there because I kept forgetting it at home. I would probably lose my head if it weren’t attached, honestly. 

"Hey, how's it going?" he said to me as I set up my supplies. I turned and smiled, holding up one of the paintbrushes. 

"I am in the zone today, Jon," I informed him, earning a laugh. "I'm totally going to finish . . .I think." 

"Alright, well, whatever you say," he said, before moving on to greeting other students. And from then on, I was basically in my own little world. It was like I couldn’t see or think about anything that wasn’t on my canvas, and it was honestly one of the best feelings. I had never found anything else in my life that could give me as much joy as painting did. I littered the canvas with a few new splashes of color, as well as adding onto areas that I had already painted. 

This was an abstract piece, but there was still very much a method behind the madness. I mean, I don't think I could have explained that method to save my life, but it made sense to me. In fact, I sometimes felt like art was the only thing that made sense to me. It was the only outlet I had that allowed my to effectively express myself and I was absolutely in love with it. 

Once again, though, the class just seemed too short, even though it was the longest class I had. Two hours was just not enough. However, I did reach a stopping point on time and was able to get cleaned up in time to head to my next class. I sped over to the philosophy building on my bike and this time made sure I locked it up outside. I couldn't get lucky with that every time.   
As soon as I entered the lecture hall I scanned the room for Ryan. I found him sitting in the back row this time, and luckily there was an empty seat next to him. I smiled to myself and headed up the steps, then shimmied through the row until I got to that seat. 

"Hi," I said, cheerfully. 

"Hey, it's you again," he said, grinning. "You're on time today, huh?" 

"Yep," I chuckled. 

"You've got something on your face, by the way," he said, casually. I gasped and my hand flew to my face.

"What? Where?" I asked, without really thinking of the circumstances beforehand. Ryan just chuckled to himself and shrugged. 

"I don't know," he said, still stifling a laugh as the realization suddenly hit me. How the hell would Ryan know if I had something on my face?

"Oh man, you're a jerk," I said. "You got me." 

"I sure did," he said. "But, for real though, you're shoe's untied." 

"Ha-ha," I said, sarcastically, though I secretly stole a glance downward, surprised to see that it actually was untied. "What! How did you know that?" 

"Your shoelace hit my ankle when you sat down," he explained, as if that should have been the obvious explanation. I actually found it pretty amazing that he could be aware of little things like that. I probably wouldn't have even noticed until I tripped over it and fell on my face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I mumbled, reaching down to tie it really quick. "You're a real joker, you know that?" 

"Hey, what's wrong with that?" he asked, his voice still just as cool and casual. I wondered how he managed to stay so composed all the time. That was definitely something I needed to learn.

"Uh, nothing," I mumbled, trying to think of what I wanted to say. "You just make a lot of blind jokes for a . . . for a . . . "

"For a blind person?" he suggested. "Well, hey, the way I think of it is . . . I can't change the fact that I'm blind, so I'm gonna be a lot happier if I just embrace it rather than try to avoid it. Does that make sense?" 

"Yeah, it does," I said, smiling. He just had me in such awe. "Wow, so you're like, really confident." 

"I try to be," he shrugged. I was so fascinated by this guy, I wanted to keep talking to him, but unfortunately our professor interrupted that endeavor by starting class. As usual, I took to doodling random designs over the corners of the pages, only really taking notes of things every now and then. 

The lecture seemed to drag on for hours and I hated it. I couldn't wait until I was done with all of these dumb Gen Ed classes so I could focus more on my art. 

Finally, after a grueling hour of lecture, we were free to go. I quickly packed up my stuff and then turned to Ryan, who was already standing up. Walking out of class with him again had excitement bubbling in my stomach. 

"Do you have a class after this?" I asked him, not really paying attention to whether or not I was sounding too eager. I probably was, though. Dammit. 

"Yep, it's a math class," he said. 

"Oh, okay, which one?" I asked, as we started to leave the row. He continued going back and forth with me until we got outside and I was to the bike rack. I didn't want him to go to class, though. I really wanted to just keep talking to him. He was probably annoyed by me, but if he was he wasn't showing it. 

"Um, well, I guess I'll talk to you later then, huh?" I shrugged. 

"Yeah, definitely. Hey, what are you doing later tonight?" he asked, smiling. I grinned as my chest swelled with hope. 

"Nothing!" I chirped.

Okay. That was probably too eager. 

"Well that's great," he smiled. "Want to grab something to eat? We can meet by the activities building and go from there." 

"Yeah, sure, that's great," I said, excitedly. 

"Awesome, how's seven sound?" he asked. 

"Perfect." 

\---

"Dallon, Dallon, Dallon!" I said trying to get his attention as I flopped down onto my bed. I laid flat on my back with my arms out, staring dreamily up at the ceiling. Dallon was sitting at his desk, probably working on something for school.

"Brendon!" he mimicked. "What?" 

"I have a date . . . I think. Maybe. I might have a date," I said, unable to wipe the stupid grin from my face. Oh my god, this was just too cool. I was already kind of crushing on Ryan, and the fact that he even wanted to hang out with me felt like a blessing. 

"Whoa, really? Who with?" he asked, suddenly really interested in the conversation. 

"His name is Ryan Ross - he was at that party the other night," I explained. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, which wasn't exactly the response I was hoping for. I wondered if that meant he knew Ryan.

"You wouldn't happen to be referring to Spencer's blind brother would you?" he asked, seemingly wary. I gave him a confused look. “We were at Spencer’s place for the party.”

"Uh, yeah, maybe . . . unless there are multiple blind students on this campus named Ryan Ross. . . then in that case, I don't know," I said. Dallon gave me a tired look. "Yes, that one." 

"Really man? Isn't that like, weird?" he asked, though he didn’t sound like he was saying it in a mean way. I shrugged. 

"No? Why would it be? Ryan is really nice," I assured him. I propped myself up on my elbows as I looked over at Dallon. He studied me for a minute, and then sighed. 

"Well, alright. To each their own,” he shrugged, thankfully not trying to push the conversation further. I felt a little relieved because I thought he was about to get all judgmental and the last thing I wanted was an argument with Dallon.


	4. Chapter Four

I stood outside the student activities building, just as seven o'clock was rolling around. It was a nice evening, with the sun setting but not quite dark out yet. My eyes were glued to the time on my phone as I waited for Ryan to show up.

I started thinking maybe Ryan wasn’t going to show up. Maybe he thought over his decision to meet up with me and get dinner. Maybe he realized I was into him and he didn’t want to go on a date and– basically my mind was just swimming with these crazy ideas and possibilities. 

Moments later, I heard footsteps and the increasingly familiar sound of Ryan's walking stick tapping against the ground. I smiled immediately and turned around. Sure enough, there he was.  
"Hey!" I exclaimed, putting my phone back in my pocket and approaching him. He looked so good, too, wearing this button-down shirt and jeans. My heart fluttered because I started to think that maybe, yes, this was going to be a date. 

"Hey, yourself," he said, smiling as he stopped in front of me. He almost sounded relieved. "I was worried you wouldn't show up."

"What? Of course, why wouldn't I?" I asked, bewildered that he was having the same thoughts I was. He was so much cooler than me, why would he have to worry about silly things like that? 

"Eh, I've been stood up before. Guys decide they don't want to go out with a blind guy," he shrugged. We started walking away from our meeting point and towards the strip of our college town where there were a bunch of places to eat. It was right outside campus, and easily accessible from where we were.

"That's terrible," I said, sympathetically. I couldn’t imagine people standing him up. It sounded absolutely absurd.

"It's whatever," He shrugged. "Hey, so how does Thai food sound?"

"Sounds great," I agreed, as something dawned on me. "Wait, so is this going out? Like a date?"

"I'll admit it, that was my intention, but it doesn't have to be," he said. I shook my head, again forgetting that he couldn't see that. 

"I mean, yeah that's great - like seriously?" I asked, still unable to believe that this was actually a date. I mean, holy shit. Wow.

"You sound so excited," he laughed. "You're adorable." 

I smiled so widely at his comment that I thought my face was going to burst. And for a few moments after that, I couldn't even physically muster up any words because I was just all smiles. The happiness just consumed me. 

"I'm not, but thanks," I finally said, as we walked down the row. 

"Whoa, hold up," he said, stopping. I stopped, too, and turned to him. I noticed we were right in front of the Thai restaurant anyway. 

"What?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably as I realized that it was because of what I said. 

"Don't talk about yourself like that, alright?" he said, softly. He gave me a warm smile before turning and pulling open the door. 

"What- how did you know that was there?" I asked, genuinely shocked. He just chuckled and gave me a bashful smile.

"Let's just say I really like Thai food," he explained, a little guiltily. I smiled and headed inside with him. We were seated at a small booth and it took me a while to decide what I wanted. After awkwardly telling the waiter I was still looking over the menu about three separate times, we finally placed our order. 

"So, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure," Ryan said, an encouraging air to his voice. There was just something so nice about the way he talked to me. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about his voice, but he just sounded kind. He was always kind and always so interested in what I had to say. I really hoped that was something that would last, as I knew I ended up either boring or annoying most people. Even Dallon got annoyed with me sometimes, and he was my best friend. 

"This is a real date, right?" I asked, sheepishly. I just wanted to be sure I didn't imagine our conversation from earlier. That would have been embarrassing. I mean, I was used to messing up all the time, but still. I chewed my bottom lip nervously as I waited for his answer.

"Yes, it is, I promise," he said, giving me that same warm smile. "You interest me and I want to get to know you better." 

"Really?" I asked again. This was just so, so great. "I totally feel the same way." 

"Well that's good. Makes this whole date thing significantly less awkward," he said. I agreed with his statement and then took a good moment to look him over. He really was so good looking. His features were soft and the way his hair curled slightly just killed me. Cute and nice? What a great combination. 

"So, um," I mumbled, looking for something else to talk about. I was apparently interesting to him and I didn’t want him to change his mind about that. "Do you understand like, anything that's going on in philosophy?" 

"Yeah, kind of," he shrugged. "Why?" 

"I'm totally struggling," I admitted. "I don't know what it is, I just . . . I don't get these thought experiment things . . . like what the heck is a thought experiment? How did they do these experiments because they all sound weird? Like the one where the guy like took out his brain or whatever?" 

"They're not physical experiments," he explained, his tone still light-hearted. "It's basically like –someone constructed a story to create an explanation or refutation for a concept. For example, the one you're talking about is about identity and making the argument that identity isn't physical." 

"But that's like, so confusing. Because it means if I'm not me, then I'm still me," I said, even though it still wasn't sinking in. All of the weird thinking in philosophy just gave me a headache sometimes. It was really stressful. 

"It just means that who you are isn't rooted in your physical form, yet most people insist that it is," he explained, easily. 

"So then . . . what am I?" I asked, feeling so out of the loop. What was he even talking about now? "Like how do they know that?" 

"They don't," he chuckled. "That's the beauty of philosophy, it's just a bunch of people sitting around thinking about shit. And that's what the classes are for, to get you to challenge your ways of thinking about things, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," I shrugged, as a waiter appeared at our table with our food. We put a hold on the conversation as he set down the plates and we started eating. 

"This is my favorite place, honestly," Ryan said. "The food's great." 

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty good," I shrugged. "I'm not too picky about foods, I guess." 

"Well, I'll keep that in mind," he said, grinning. "We'll test your limits." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, frowning, but not really frowning. Ryan was becoming more interesting by the second. 

"That I'm quite the food connoisseur so if this works out and we keep dating, you're going to be trying lots of different foods," he said. I laughed, liking the fact that he was already thinking about dates beyond this one. What a good sign! This was absolutely fantastic. 

"Alright, then," I said, containing my excitement quite well. "I'll hold you to it." 

"Great. So tell me something else about yourself, Brendon," he requested, sitting forward a bit as he continued to eat. "Like, I already know you like art . . . what else is there to know? I want to know everything." 

"Um . . . I mean, besides art, there's not really much," I shrugged. Might as well be honest with him. "I'm a pretty boring person, honestly." 

"No you're not," he insisted. "You are so interesting. I'm willing to bet that there are things about you that you thought of, but you’re too modest to talk about. But just lay it on me, come on." 

"Uh," I breathed, trying to think of something. "I guess . . . some people think I have a weird fashion sense." 

"Really?" he asked, still hanging off of every word I said. "How so?" 

"I mean, I tend to put outfits together based on the colors and the energy they give off in my opinion, and I guess it's not always the most fashionable choice. I like it, though," I shrugged. "Dallon hates it." 

"I'm sure you look really cute," he said, smiling a sort of sad smile. I suddenly felt really bad because I realized I brought up a subject that he really couldn't comment on. Dammit.

"I'm sorry, I know you can't like - shit," I breathed, slumping back into my seat. This anxious feeling rose in my chest as I silently yelled at myself for offending a potential boyfriend. I was such a terrible–

"Brendon, it's fine," he assured me, noticing my distress. "You wear whatever you want to wear, okay? I mean, I totally wish I knew what you meant by that. I really do. But that does still tell me something about you." 

"It does?" 

"Yeah, you're quirky, and you're not afraid to be yourself," he said, smiling again. I pursed my lips together, heat rising in my cheeks for some reason. 

"Is that good or bad?" I wanted to know. 

"Definitely good. I like quirky,” he smiled. I opened my mouth to respond, but the only noise that came out was a stupidly smitten laugh. _Ryan likes quirky._


	5. Chapter Five

After we finished eating dinner at the Thai place, Ryan and I walked back outside and just sort of slowly stalled around. We kept talking and talking and putting off getting back to campus. It was like neither of us wanted to leave, and neither of us was willing to make the first move to suggest that we do. 

"I'm having a great time, I just thought I should tell you," Ryan said at one point. We had found a bench near the main campus entrance and sat next to each other. It was already dark by this point, but the streetlights were on, so it wasn't that bad. I had plenty of light and well, Ryan . . . you know. 

"Really? So am I," I said, smiling the hugest smile I could muster up. My heart was doing somersaults. This was absolutely crazy to me, and I half-expected someone to wake me up at any moment and tell me it was all just a dream. No way I was actually meeting someone who was just as interested in me as I was in them.

"I'm glad," he grinned. "So should we keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" I asked, before I realized it was a stupid question. I wasn't the best at filtering out stupid things, they just sort of flew out sometimes. "I mean, yeah, definitely." 

"Okay, awesome," Ryan said, chuckling. "You know, I wish I could stay out here all night with you, but I should really head back home." 

"Yeah," I agreed, reluctantly. The night had to come to a close eventually I guess. I didn't want to go, either. "Do you want me to walk you to your place?" 

It was an innocent gesture, honestly. 

"What? No," he said, rather abruptly. It caught me off guard because his tone was suddenly so different than it had been this whole time we were talking. I froze, wondering what I said to offend him. "I mean . . . sorry, I'm fine going home myself. I'll talk to you in class? Maybe we can figure out what to do on our next date, okay?" 

I smiled. 

"Yeah, okay," I said, quietly, my mind hung up on ‘next date.’ "Well, I'll see you around then." 

"Wait, I don't get at least a hug or something?" he smirked. I bit my lip and felt my face growing hot as I stepped closer to him. He held his arms out slightly and I slowly stepped into them, wrapping my arms around his middle as his arms closed around my shoulders. He was so warm and I could already tell he was toned by how firm his body was. He was thin, but solid and warm. It was definitely a good thing, though. I never wanted to let go of him.

The hug wasn't that long, but I felt like I could have stayed there hugging him for a lifetime. I never realized that I could be left feeling so breathless and bewildered by something as simple as a hug. But it was perfect nonetheless. He was perfect. 

"Good night Brendon," he said in a low voice. 

"Yeah . . . Good night," I breathed, watching as he gave me one last smile before heading off in the opposite direction. I took a deep breath to collect myself for a moment before I started off towards my dorm building. 

I was so happy. Was this what walking on clouds felt like? Or however that saying went? I literally felt like I could just break out into song and dance and I just wouldn't even care who was watching. This was just so perfect. 

I took the stairs to my room two at a time, eager to get back to Dallon and tell him everything. I got to the room, and dug through my pockets to find my keys. . . when I realized that I had forgotten to take them with me. 

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I knocked on the door, hoping Dallon wouldn't be too annoyed by my forgetfulness. He was always getting onto me about that, and I knew my forgetfulness was a bad thing a lot of the time. 

A few moments later, the door swung open and Dallon let me in. 

"I'm sorry, I forgot my key," I said as I entered the room and locked the door behind me. Dallon just shrugged and crawled back into his bed. I hoped I didn’t wake him up or something.

"It's okay," he mumbled. "How was the date?" 

"Oh my god, it was absolutely perfect," I gushed, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I felt like some middle school girl with her first crush, honestly. I just couldn't stop thinking about Ryan or how perfect our date was. Perfect, perfect, perfect! "I really like him, Dallon." 

"Really? That's great," he said, casually, peeking up at me from the comfort of his own bed. "And the blind thing still isn't an issue?" 

"What? No . . . Dallon, come on," I sighed, a little disappointed in how low his expectations already were for Ryan. 

"What? I 'm just being honest here, Bren. Dating a blind person is different that dating a normal person," he explained, a little defensively. I didn’t like the way he used the word ‘normal.’ I mean, that was highly subjective anyway. 

"It doesn't have to be," I insisted. "Ryan's really cool, you should meet him sometime." 

"Yeah, I'm sure he is," Dallon said, sounding tired again. He just didn’t understand, but I knew he’d come around eventually. "Sorry if I said anything offensive, I'm just looking out for you." 

\---

That next week was a little crazy for Dallon, or at least that's how he explained it. Apparently it was rush week, meaning that that was how he had to join the frat. There was something about attending parties and impressing people. It all sounded so superficial to me, but I tried not to pass too much judgment, because I knew it meant a lot to Dallon. 

"They're giving out bids today, wish me luck," Dallon said, as he finished checking himself out in one of the mirrors. It was a little amusing seeing him dressed up all preppy. Honestly, it made it hard to believe this was the same guy that went through an eyeliner phase in high school.

"Luck!" I chirped enthusiastically as someone knocked at the door. "I'll get it!" 

I moved towards the door and pulled it open surprised to see someone I didn't recognize. He was taller than me, but not as tall as Dallon and dressed up all preppy like Dallon was. He had a beard that made him look older than he probably was.

"Hi, can I help you?" I asked, giving him a friendly smile. I wasn’t sure who he was, but I assumed he meant well. 

"Hey, is Dallon here?" he asked. A friend of Dallon’s! I nodded and invited the guy inside and Dallon looked up in recognition. 

"What's up, Spencer," he said, casually, giving the guy a fist-bump as the metaphorical light bulb went off in my head. 

"Oh! You're Ryan's step-brother, right?" I asked, excitedly. He looked confused momentarily, but then nodded. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis and smiled. I thought it was so cool how Dallon ended up being friends with someone close to Ryan. What a small world!

"Yeah, how do you know Ryan?" he asked. His tone was a bit defensive, like he wasn’t sure if my association with Ryan was a good one or a bad one. 

"I'm Brendon, I guess we're kinda dating," I said, smiling. Telling him someone out loud that I was dating him made me want to burst into a fit of giggles. By this point in time, Ryan and I had already been on our second date and everything was going pretty smoothly. I had hugged him three times, and I thought about those hugs a lot. We didn’t have an official label yet but he made me very happy.

"Oh, nice, I've heard a bit about you," he said, which caused my stomach to do a backflip. Ryan talked about me? That was great right? Oh my goodness.

"Really?" I asked, grinning widely. Spencer just chuckled. 

"Yeah, he really likes you, I guess," he said. Then his smile faded. "I've heard good things, but just remember . . . you hurt him and I'll beat your skinny ass." 

"What?" I asked, involuntarily taking a step back as he just laughed. I eased up a little and let out my own nervous laughter. I guessed he was just kidding . . . or maybe he wasn't but either way I had no intention of hurting Ryan in any way. I guess a brother just needed to be protective. “No, I’m– I won’t hurt him. No way.” 

"You'll be fine, I'm sure," he assured me, with a cool grin. Ok so maybe he was just messing with me. "Yo, Dallon, I'm not getting any younger over here." 

"Right, I'm ready," he said, grabbing his phone and keys from his desk. I said good-bye to them both as they headed out of the room and onto their bidding-rush-auction thing or whatever it was called. Hopefully everything would work out for them. The thought crossed my mind that maybe if they both got bids we could all go out and celebrate and Ryan would be there too and it would be wonderful. 

I sort of lay there for a while; imagining scenarios where we’d all be friends and Ryan would hold my hand. I honestly never thought I’d make any friends besides Dallon when I got to college, yet here I was. I had an almost-kinda–boyfriend and I was getting along with Dallon’s new friends.


	6. Chapter Six

I waited up for Dallon to come home from whatever event Spencer and he were going to. Besides, there was a test coming up in Philosophy and I was hopelessly trying to study for it, anyway. Philosophy was like reading in a completely different language sometimes and it was beyond frustrating. I hated it, hated it, hated it.

But then, I remembered that I was dating a guy in my philosophy class and that maybe I could just call him and see how he was studying. Totally not just an excuse to see him instead of staying cooped up by myself. So, that's what I did. After a few minutes of fumbling around my bed to figure out where I left my phone, I dialed Ryan's phone number and called him. 

That was really the only big thing I had to get used to with Ryan. He didn't text, and I could only call him. Typing on a computer was no problem for him, especially when there were little technologies to help make that easier. However, he insisted that using all of those technologies to type out a message would be more difficult than just straight-up calling. So that just meant I had to work on talking on the phone, because I usually hated talking on the phone. I’m not sure what it was, but phone calls just made me so anxious for no obvious reason. Texts were easier because they required less communication expertise. 

"Hello?" I smiled as Ryan's voice came through the receiver. At least a voice like Ryan’s was good at easing that anxiety. 

"Hi, it's Brendon," I said, cheerfully. 

"Hey, Brendon, what's up?" he asked, calmly. 

"Well, I mean, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over to study for our test in philosophy," I said, awkwardly balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear. "Like, yeah, sorry it's last minute, but I'm just so lost." 

"Yeah, I mean, I'm free, I can definitely come over," he said, warmly. I smiled to myself again. 

"Great! Do you want me to meet you on campus and I can show you the way over or-" 

"No," he said, quickly. I frowned, noting his sharpness again. "It's okay, just tell me the floor and room number and I can come over myself." 

"Um, okay," I said, quietly. "It's the third floor . . . room 345." 

"Alright, thanks. I'll be over in a little while," he said, before saying goodbye and hanging up. I set my phone aside again and laid back on my bed, my chest buzzing with excitement at the idea of Ryan coming over and saving me from boredom.

\---

When Ryan finally arrived, he knocked on the door and I eagerly jumped up to answer it. This was the first time he was coming over and, well, I was always happy to hang out with him, anyway. But there was something even more exciting about him coming over.

I grinned widely and pulled the door open, pleased to see Ryan standing there. I was about to say something when Ryan suddenly reached out and ran his hands all over my face. I gasped.

"Brendon? Is that you?" he asked, dramatically, continuing to grope my face and ruffle my hair. He was doing it on purpose. "Brendon?" 

"Yes, it's me," I giggled as he continued to mess with me. I knew he could tell it was me, he was just being sarcastic as usual. Ryan's sense of humor was definitely something I was getting used to. He was hilarious. 

"Are you sure?" he asked, stepping into the room and attempting to suppress his own laughter. I finally stepped back enough to playfully swat his hands away. _Silly._

"Yes! Stop!" I laughed. He nodded and slid his hands in his pockets as I closed the door behind us. I still couldn’t stop smiling. 

"Well, this is a nice room you've got here. Very aesthetically pleasing," he joked. I watched as he reached to the side and felt along the edge of my bed before sitting down. 

"Oh, that's my roommate's bed, actually," I said, trying to pull the humor on him for once. To my surprise, he actually stood up. 

"Sorry," he said, quickly. 

"I'm just kidding, that's my bed, you can sit there," I laughed as he shook his head and joined in with my laughter, telling me that he could take jokes just as well as he dished them out. I went over and sat next to him, pulling my notebook into my lap so we could start on the studying. "Thanks for coming over." 

"No problem," he said. He took the backpack off that he'd been wearing and I watched as he unzipped the bag and took out a folder full of what appeared to be blank papers.   
"What's that?" I asked, curiously. He set the backpack down and grinned. 

"My notes," he said. Upon closer observation, I noticed that the papers were full of little bumps and ridges. Braille. "See, the girl who takes notes for me sends them through this machine that translates into braille and, yeah, notes. It’s very cool." 

"Oh, cool," I echoed, looking at the paper. I couldn't even begin to imagine learning to read that way, but I guess if Ryan had been doing it for most of his life it probably came easily now.   
"Anyway, what part were you having trouble with studying?" he asked. 

"All of it," I whined, toppling over onto my side. Come to think of it, this was actually pretty embarrassing. "I going to fail, I just know it." 

"No, you're not, you'll be fine," he said. I looked at the notes I had out and sorted through them. I had no idea where to even start and Ryan probably thought I was an idiot for asking him to come over without even having a plan. Heck, he probably thought I was an idiot in general for not understanding the material. The words on the paper all just seemed like a jumbled mess, though that was probably my fault. Half of the notes were just drawings and then the other half was literally chicken scratch. In other words, I couldn't even read my own handwriting sometimes. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so unorganized," I sighed, feeling distressed. 

"Brendon, just relax, okay?" he asked, keeping his tone calm and even. I bit my lip and started feeling worried all over again. This study date was so not as exciting as I thought it was going to be. "Sometimes, the first step in studying is getting organized. Now, it's probably too late for this test, but for the other ones, you should really hone in on your strengths to try and use them to create your notes." 

"What do you mean?" I asked him, glancing down at the mess again. God, it was a good thing he couldn't see my notes because that would have been embarrassing. 

"I mean . . . you like drawing. Why don't you draw your notes? Like a lot of these case studies and thought experiments are like stories . . . you could draw them out, maybe? Then again, I don't know if that would help you or not, because I'm not much of a visual learner," he said, smirking a little. I smiled. 

"I guess that makes sense," I said, looking around me for a blank piece of paper. I found one on my desk and brought it back to the bed, using a textbook as a hard surface. "Can you explain the one with the guy with the brains again?" 

"Okay, well, for starters, it's about identity," he said, chuckling softly. "Second, why don't we start with something a little less complicated? Do you remember the example with the ship?" 

"The one were it goes out to sea and gets repaired?" I asked, actually recalling the lecture. I drew out a little cartoon boat on my paper, and then made some water to go with it, like a ship sailing on the ocean. I thought it looked cute. 

"Yeah, so it goes out to sea, and over the duration of it's voyage, ends up getting every part replaced . . . so when it comes back, is it still the same boat?" he asked. I thought about it for a minute and tried to create a pictorial representation of that concept. "Did you get that?" 

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just thinking for a minute," I mumbled, finishing up the little diagram. I held it up and examined it, a huge smile spreading across my face as I realized that I finally understood the example. "Ohhhh, I get it now."

And so we went back and forth like that for a while until we were interrupted by Dallon coming home. I looked up as the door came open, and Dallon walked in, followed by his friend, Spencer. They both looked like they were in a good mood. 

"Hey, bro, what are you doing here?" Spencer said, looking genuinely surprised to see Ryan sitting with me. Ryan turned towards Spencer and nodded towards him. I still thought it was cool how everyone was connected. 

"Studying for philosophy," he said. "Have you met Brendon yet?" 

"Yeah, I did before we left," Spencer responded, giving a casual shrug. “Finally got to meet the boy you’ve been talking about non–stop–“

“Spencer!” Ryan scolded, almost sounding embarrassed. I just smiled because I liked the idea of Ryan telling people about me. 

"Well, cool, everyone knows each other," Dallon chuckled, seeming content with the situation. No comments about Ryan being blind or whatever he was saying before. "Great. So then, we can announce together that we both got bids for Alpha Sigma Sigma!"

“Oh my goodness! Congrats!” I said, excitedly getting up and crossing the room so I could give Dallon a celebratory hug. He chuckled and I stepped back. Ryan looked significantly less impressed. 

“Yay! You joined a cult, good job, guys,” Ryan laughed, as Spencer just rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, smart-ass,” he chuckled. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he shrugged, even though he probably really didn’t like the idea of them joining a frat. I mean, I tried to be open-minded about it. As long as it made them happy, I didn’t think it was really my place to judge what they did. And for some reason, pledging brotherhood to a group of guys they barely knew was appealing to them. 

I just hoped that I would still get to hang out with Dallon.


	7. Chapter Seven

To say that I was nervous for the test the next day would have been a gross understatement. Studying with Ryan seemed to help when it came to understanding the material, but I was still unsure about a lot of it. There was no way I was just going to magically learn the chapter material overnight. 

Anyway, so I biked to class as normal and went into the building. I was early for once and I told myself that that was a good sign. Seeing Ryan before I had to take the test would probably calm me down a bit. However, the only problem was that Ryan wasn't there when I came in. 

He was always in class before I was, sitting down and waiting like a good, punctual student. But this time he was nowhere to be seen. Still feeling unsure, I sat down in my usual seat and looked around, hoping he'd pop in any minute. I wanted him to sit down next to me, squeeze my hand and tell me I was going to do just fine on the exam. He still didn't show up, though.   
I wished I could just text him and ask him where he was, but I couldn't. And I couldn't call him, because before I knew it, the TA was handing out tests and it was time to begin. No turning back. 

I did my best to put thoughts of Ryan aside as I took the test. The questions were hard, and I was definitely sure I wasn't getting an A. That being said, I didn't think I failed it, because I was at least familiar with the questions. I took the entire class time to finish my test, and then turned it in at the front of the room, being one of the last students to do so. As soon as I was back out of the building, I pulled out my cell phone and called Ryan. 

I really hoped nothing was wrong, and that maybe he was just sick or something. 

"Hello?" His voice came over the phone. I let out a sigh of relief, as he didn't sound particularly distressed or sick. He sounded like everything was perfectly normal.

"Hey, where were you?" I asked, getting right to it. "I just got out of the test." 

"I'm in the library if you want to come meet me," he said, glossing over my question. "I don't have that math class on Fridays, so I'm just in here. The second floor lounge." 

"Um . . . okay, I guess I'll see you in a few minutes," I mumbled, confused. I hung up the phone and slipped it back into my pocket before unlocking my bike and pedaling off to the library. It was a short ride from the philosophy building. 

The second floor of the main library on campus was like this lounge and study area where most people just sat around and got homework done. The only difference from the rest of the library is that you were allowed to talk and eat and stuff. 

I scanned the floor before I found Ryan sitting at a table in one of the corners. I smiled when I saw him and strolled over, taking the seat next to him. He shifted when I sat down, smiling in my direction.

"Hey," I said, happily. "So what's the deal?" 

"With what?" he asked, turning towards me, like nothing was the matter. Huh. Maybe I was missing something? 

"You weren't in class. Why'd you skip the exam?" I asked, as he sighed.

"I didn't skip the exam. I take tests with a proctor in the DSS office," he explained. I knew that DSS stood for Disability Support Services, but it took me a minute to understand why Ryan would need that. "I mean, I don't usually like getting any special treatment, but it really wouldn't be fair to put a piece of paper in front of me and tell me to take a written test, you know?" 

"Oh," I said, everything suddenly clicking. I guess I felt a little dumb. Once I thought about it I realized that it would make no sense for him to be able to take the test in the regular classroom. 

“Yeah the proctor just reads me the questions and I type up my answers,” he explained. "How do you think you did?" 

"I don't know. I guess I didn't do terribly," I shrugged. I asked him how he thought he did on the exam, and he shrugged and told me he thought he did well before I started droning on about one question in particular. I watched him as I spoke, another question forming in my mind. It was completely irrelevant, but it was hard to keep from rolling off my tongue. "Hey, can I ask you something? If you don't want to answer, you don't have to." 

"Yeah, shoot," he shrugged, casually. I hesitated a moment before I spoke, trying to make sure I didn't word my question in a way that would offend or upset him. I definitely did not want that. 

"Um, have you ever been able to see?" I asked. 

I noticed right away how his demeanor changed. It was like his posture just sank for a moment and I worried that I had struck a nerve or something. Oh god. I immediately wished I could take back the question because I was immediately realizing it was a terribly insensitive thing to ask.

"Um . . . yeah, but it was a long time ago, and I don't really remember," he finally said, in a sort of solemn tone. I bit at the inside of my cheek as I studied him, wondering where the sadness was coming from, but being too afraid to ask. I was clearly already pushing my limits here. But luckily I didn't have to, though, because he just kept talking. 

"When I was, like, three I was in a really bad car accident," he elaborated, recalling the story. "I don't remember it, but I was apparently comatose for like, three weeks and when I woke up I couldn't see anything. Which was particularly traumatic, because, um, my mom died in the accident. Can't even begin to imagine what that was like for my dad. I can't even remember how I felt, but I can't imagine I felt too good." 

"Oh my god, that's terrible. I'm sorry," I said, really just not knowing what else to say. I mean, what do you say to something like that? I couldn't even begin to imagine being that young and suddenly waking up not only in a world of darkness, but in a world without my mom. It must have been terrifying. 

"Don't be sorry. I was actually really lucky, you know? They thought for sure I was going to die," he said, adding a light-hearted chuckle to sort of ease the sudden somber mood. "I mean, obviously some days are better than others but . . . there's nothing I can do to change what happened, so . . . yeah. It was a bad experience, obviously, but I’m not like, upset about it anymore. " 

"What do you mean?" I asked. 

"Well . . . you know, I've mostly accepted myself and all that fun stuff, but there are still days every now and then where I think about how much easier my life would be if I could see . . . You know, Brendon, I really wish I could see you," he said, his voice changing to a slightly different tone. This one I couldn't pick up on very well, but there was definitely a slight sense of longing. The thought crossed my mind that I was incredibly lucky to be able to see Ryan and how beautiful he was. 

"I mean, hey, maybe it's a good thing, I'm really not that attractive," I laughed, hoping he'd just laugh along with me. Such a funny joke. 

"Nonsense, I'm sure you're drop-dead gorgeous," he smiled, making me blush noticeably. I tried to force a smile, because I knew he was just saying that to make me feel better. "Can you do something for me?" 

"Yeah," I breathed, watching as he leaned against the table. 

"Can you describe yourself?" he asked softly. It made me a little nervous because I didn't think that there was anything really special to point out. I mean, this whole time I was sort of thankful that Ryan couldn't see me because I knew I was a total mess. An absolute disaster. 

"I . . . well, I have dark brown hair," I said, starting with possibly the most boring thing ever. "It's like, down almost to my shoulders. I should probably brush it more, but I don't. I'm kind of a messy person. . . um, my eyes are brown, but like, a gross brown and my forehead is too big and–"

"Okay, stop," he said, cutting me off, suddenly. "New rules. You can describe yourself, but you're only allowed to use positive adjectives." 

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, even though I wasn't quite sure how to go about doing this. To be completely honest, I wasn't the biggest fan of myself. I was pretty much all over the place, and I couldn't imagine how anyone would find that attractive. In some twisted way I was glad that Ryan was blind, because it meant he couldn’t see what a horrible mess I was. Most people I knew were annoyed by me, and for some reason that awkwardness was just inescapable for me. 

I sat there quietly for a while, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't sound fake. I was so bad at faking emotions, and I knew Ryan would pick up on it. Heck, he seemed to pick up on it anyways. 

In the next moment, Ryan reached over and placed his hand over mine. I noticed his hand slipped a little as he was trying to find mine, but I didn't comment on it. His hands were warm, and I watched as his long fingers wrapped around my hand.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, softly. "You don't have to come up with anything now, just . . . think about it okay? But know that it doesn't matter what you look like because I like you anyway. I want you to be my boyfriend just exactly how you are." 

"Yeah, okay . . . "I said, rolling my eyes as his words suddenly started to sink in. I knitted my eyebrows and sat up straight. "Wait, you want to be my boyfriend?"   
What? Was this actually real? 

"Of course I do,” he chuckled, giving me a bright grin. I felt my mood go from zero to 100, just like that. “Is that alright with you?” 

“Yes! Yes, of course it is,” I said, cheerfully. I leaned forward in my seat, holding his hand even tighter because I just couldn’t believe it. My boyfriend! 

“Well, alright then. It’s official,” he chuckled, looking just as happy about it as I felt. His smile suddenly made my previous reservations seem silly. “Boyfriend.” 

“Yep, boyfriend,” I repeated, unable to come up with anything else because I was just so awestruck by the perfect boy in front of me. He was so amazing. 

It had been a whole three seconds, and I already loved calling him my boyfriend.


	8. Chapter Eight

"Dallon!" I shouted as soon as I got back to my room that night. He looked up at me, visibly annoyed by my outburst. I couldn’t help it, though; it was just physically impossible for me to contain my excitement. That, and he looked like he was getting ready to go out. 

"Jesus Christ, you don't have to yell," he grumbled, shoving his wallet in his back pocket and picking up his keys from his desk. He acted irritated, but I didn’t take it too seriously. 

"Oops, sorry," I chuckled awkwardly. But I was still excited. "Guess what!" 

"What?" he asked, with a flat affect. 

"Ryan is my boyfriend now!" I said, beaming. I just still could not even believe what happened. It was so surreal. 

"Really? That's great," he offered, though he didn't sound as excited. I mean, obviously I was going to be more excited but I was hoping he'd celebrate with me a little more. 

"Aw, aren't you happy for me?" I asked, pulling a bit of an innocent pout. I just wanted him to jump up and down with me a bit. That’s all.

"Of course, I said that's great," he said, sounding a little defensive. I didn't want to be annoying, so I just decided to drop it. Oh well. 

"Where are you going?" I asked, as he made his way to the door. Usually we told each other where we'd be so that we could look out for each other. That way, if something happened to either of us, we’d know where the other was. I mean, that's what best friends were for, right? Keeping each other safe?

"Alpha Sigma Sigma's having a party to celebrate new pledges," he explained, finally sporting a grin. "It's gonna be great." 

"Oh, that sounds like fun, is it like the party from before?" I asked, remembering that last time he went to a party with them I got to go. "Can I come?" 

"Um . . . No, sorry – it's um, a members-only thing," he said, though he seemed like he was struggling to piece together his explanation a bit. I wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not. "I won't be back until really late, so don't wait up for me." 

\---

"Hello, boyfriend!" I said cheerfully as I sat next to Ryan in class on Monday. He turned towards me and smiled.

"Hey, cutie," he said, making my chest swell. Honestly, it just gave me butterflies every time he said something remotely nice to me because I felt so lucky to be with him. He was such a great person and sometimes I even felt like I wasn't good enough for him. Yet somehow, here I was, grinning before him and calling him my boyfriend. 

"How did you do on the test?" I asked, since we had gotten our grades over the weekend. I got a C+ on the exam, which wasn't great, but I was okay with it. It wasn't failing, so that was great. 

"I got an A-," he sighed, like he was disappointed for it. My eyes widened, because really, that was refrigerator material for me.

"Wow, that's great! You're so smart, Ryan," I sighed, smiling at him. He was nice and smart. That was amazing. He was amazing. 

"So are you!" he insisted. "What did you get?" 

"Eh, I got a C+," I shrugged, suddenly feeling a little sub-par. I slumped back in my seat a little, trying to downplay my emotions the best I could. Maybe if I acted cool and collected about it he wouldn’t think I was stupid. "But it's okay, because I thought I was going to fail." 

We had to stop our conversation there, because soon after that our professor began his lecture about knowledge. I immediately felt lost because I realized he was talking about a reading that I forgot about over the weekend. Great.

"So, Mary is this super-scientist locked in a room. She knows everything because she has learned everything, however, she has experienced nothing for herself. So, the question is, when Mary is released from the room, she experiences the color red. . . now she of course knew about the color red but has never experienced it for herself . . . so tell me, has Mary then learned something new?" the professor pondered. He glanced around the room until someone raised their hand and offered their opinion on the matter. 

"I mean, I don't think it matters, right? If it's just color she can know everything without experiencing it . . . right?" the student asked, sounding unsure. The professor shrugged and the discussion of the matter continued on. I glanced to my side and noticed that Ryan was visibly tensing, and I already knew why. 

It would make sense that he would have opinions on the matter, since he couldn't see. But for whatever reason, he was keeping quiet about it. That is, he kept quiet about it until the professor called on him. 

"Now, I believe I have a visually impaired student in the class . . . where are you?" the professor asked. The class went silent and Ryan stiffened. Even I knew it was a little fucked up for the professor to call him out like that. I was pretty sure disabilities were supposed to be respected as confidential, even for more obvious ones like Ryan's. My eyes darted over to him, to see that he was all tense, clearly upset by the fact that the asshole professor was calling him out. I had half a mind to stand up and tell him it was messed up for him to ask something like that, to put Ryan on the spot like that. 

I honestly expected him to ignore the teacher's request, but then he slowly raised his hand. I wondered if he could feel everyone's eyes on him. 

"Yes, Ryan, right? As someone who cannot see color, what is your take on this matter?" he asked. I sighed. I knew this guy had good intentions, but come on. 

"Well . . . I don't really remember any colors . . . so for example, I've heard about a million descriptions of the color red, but I couldn't tell you what the color red is because the experience is actually intangible," he said, keeping his voice calm and even. I watched him intently as he spoke. "So I'd say . . . yeah, Mary did learn something new when she left the room."

"Hmm, very interesting. Thank you," the professor said, before moving onto the next part of his lecture. I tried turning back to my notes as he put up another Power Point slide. But then I was distracted as Ryan shuffled next to me before getting up and leaving the room. I stared after him, my heart clenching as I realized he was still upset.

I bit my lip, debating whether or not I wanted to stick around for the rest of the lecture or follow after him to see if he was okay. Considering that my interest in the class was severely lacking, I decided on the latter and packed up my stuff. 

I shuffled down the aisle again and quickly ducked out of the lecture hall. I looked around the hallway until I heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing again. I hurried down the hall and outside of the building until I found Ryan taking a seat on the front steps outside. 

"Hey, Ryan, are you alright?" I asked, hurrying down and taking a seat next to him. He had his knees to his chest. Oh no. 

"You should be in class," he muttered, lowering his head against his knees so I couldn't see his face. 

"So should you . . . which is why I'm out here to make sure you're okay," I said, placing a hand on his back. He flinched slightly, but then quickly relaxed. I took a deep breath and started rubbing gentle circles against his back. "What's wrong?" 

"Don't worry about it," he insisted, which just made me even more concerned. But the thing was, I was so bad with comforting and emotions and stuff that I sort of just sat there for a few moments, contemplating what to do. My boyfriend was sad and I didn’t know how to fix it. 

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered, hoping that that would help at least a little bit. 

"It's not your fault," he finally sighed, sitting up a little. His poor face was all flushed. "I just . . . I felt completely bombarded." 

"I know, he shouldn't have done that," I agreed. 

"Yeah . . . "he sighed. "I mean, it's not that big of a deal, I just-"

"Well, of course it's a big deal. If it upset you, then it's important and you can complain to the department if you want to," I suggested. I wasn’t usually one to do something like that, but hell, I’d do it for Ryan. I’d do anything for Ryan.

"I know, but I'm not going to. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me," he explained. "I definitely don't want you feeling like you have to defend me, either, okay?" 

"I mean . . . you know I'd defend you whether you were blind or not, though, right?" I asked, softly. He turned to face me, his eyebrows arched as if he were confused about what to say. 

I didn't know what to say either, so I just leaned forward and gently pressed my lips against his.


	9. Chapter Nine

Almost as soon as my lips touched his, he gasped and pulled back, which was definitely not the reaction I was hoping for. My stomach sank as I retreated slightly. Oh no.

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly. Oh god, how did I end up making things worse! Embarrassment flashed across my face and I hoped to God the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

"No, sorry, _I'm_  sorry. I just - you scared me," he said, relaxing. I stared at him for a moment as I realized that it might have been a little unsettling in his position for me to just kiss him out of nowhere. I didn't give him any auditory or tactile indication that I was about to do that.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," I said, apologizing as sincerely as I possibly could. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m so stupid.”

"Hey, it's okay. You’re not Stupid, Bren, " he said, reaching over and finding my shoulder. He scooted closer to me before lifting his other hand up to search my face. I held my breath, anxiously, as Ryan slowly leant in and connected our lips. His lips were soft and slightly wet. My stomach flipped as my heart rate sped up. Yet at the same time, I relaxed, moving my lips gently before he broke away again.

His hand lingered against my face for a moment, before lightly brushing against my hair. His lips were pulled into a smile.

"That was nice," I told him, honestly, unable to suppress a smile myself.

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" He said, fondly, holding me there just a little bit longer before standing up. I stood up with him, stretching and trying to shake off the butterflies.

"Are you heading off to class now?" I asked him. He started making his way down the steps. Philosophy was just about over by now, so he probably needed to get going soon.

"Yeah, do you want to come over later?" He asked, sweetly. I kept looking at his lips, delighted by the new memory I had of the way they felt against mine.

"Yeah, that would be cool," I said, so glad that I had something else to look forward to that day. "Can I um, give you . . . Um."

"A goodbye kiss?" He asked, laughing to himself. I brightened, glad that he got my gist even though I was incredibly bad at vocalizing it. I obviously didn't want to seem to forward, despite the fact that he was my boyfriend.

"Yeah, that," I said, awkwardly.

"Of course you can, boyfriend," he assured me. I sighed and softly pecked his lips.

"Bye," I breathed, watching as he he left. I waited just a few moments before turning to the rack to find that I had once again forgotten to lock my bike. Darn.

\---

"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" I asked Ryan. He shrugged.

"I mean, we live like an hour from here so it's not that far to go home. I don't know exactly though. We've still got over a month to go, anyway," he chuckled.

We were sitting together on the couch in the common room of his apartment. Ryan had his arm draped around my shoulders as I leaned into him. We were by ourselves spending time together, because all three of his roommates had stepped out for a while. 

"Oh I was just wondering. My mom called earlier today and said she bought my plane tickets for that weekend," I shrugged. He nodded, but didn't give any opinion about it either way. Honestly, as much as I missed home, I wanted to stay at school with Ryan because . . . well, he was Ryan and I didn’t want to leave, even if it were just for a week.

"And you're from Vegas, right?" He verified. I smiled and nodded, pleased that he remembered. I loved it when he remembered things about me. It was like a reminder that he cared about what went on in my life.

"Oops, I mean yeah," I said, catching my mistake. Hey, I was getting better at it anyway.

"Well, I'll miss you while you're a away, but it'll go by quickly I'm sure," he laughed, pulling me closer to him. I felt a few butterflies in my chest as he did that, and I responded by leaning over more and reaching my arm across his middle.

"You're warm," I told him in a quiet voice.

"Is that good?"

"Yep," I assured him, laying my head against his shoulder. My mind started wandering as we sat there in a comfortable silence. The first thing I thought about the fact that I hadn't eaten in a while, and that dinner actually sounded great.

And of course, as a result, my stomach quietly rumbled. I hoped that Ryan hadn't heard that.

"Hey, someone's hungry," he chuckled. Right. Ryan had superb hearing. Of course he heard it.

"What?" I said, feeling a little bashful. He sat up straight, breaking away from me a little, baring his teeth in a wide grin.

"I heard that, silly, and I'm starving, too," he said. I watched as he got up and maneuvered his way from the couch to the kitchen. I watched as he felt around on the counter for a few seconds before picking up what looked like some sort of take-out menu. "There's literally  _the_  best pizza place down the road. . . do you like pizza?"

"Yeah, of course," I said, smiling.

"Great . . . um, can you come here for a minute?" he asked. I walked over to him and leaned against the counter. He put the paper back down on the counter and slid it in my direction. "Could you please read the number for me?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, taking the menu for a place called  _Franceschi's Pizza_. "Do you want me to just place the order?"

"No, I can do it," he insisted. I complied and went on to read out the numbers to him, then watched as he dialed them into his phone. I wondered how he knew where the numbers were, but I guess after like, sixteen years or whatever it was of being blind, he'd be able to memorize it.

I set the menu back down and waited as he placed an order for one large pizza with odd toppings like pineapple and prosciutto and arugula. I was used to just . . . I don't know, normal toppings like pepperoni, but it didn't sound bad. It sounded really interesting, actually.

"Oh my god," he said, as soon as he hung up the phone. "I totally didn't even ask what you like on your pizza, I feel bad."

"No, it's fine, that sounds interesting," I said, softly. "Actually it's kind of cute how excited you get about food."

"I mean, what can I say? Food is great," he laughed. "One of the good things about being blind is that I can't see my food, so I'm never turned off by the way things look. . . I just try everything."

"What's the weirdest thing you've eaten?" I asked, leaning my elbows against the counter, just beaming at him.

"I've eaten an eye ball before," he smirked, his tone playful. I groaned in disgust before he added, "I thought it would give me the power to see again.”

"Ew! You're so weird," I giggled, as he let out his own loud fit of laughter. I loved his laugh. It always sounded so happy and genuine, and it was even better when we were laughing together. It was fun. 

“Nah, I’m totally kidding,” he said, still laughing.

As our laughter faded out, the lock on the front door turned and I looked up just as it started swinging open. Interestingly enough, his stepbrother walked in followed by Dallon. 

"Hey Spence," Ryan said, without turning around. I guess he didn't need to turn around, because it wasn't like he could see him anyway. It still caught me off guard.

"How'd you know it was him?" I asked, curious. 

"I put a tracking device in his  _brain_ –" Ryan joked, laughing as Spencer cut him off. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're hilarious," Spencer chuckled sarcastically, going over and giving Ryan a light shove. He stumbled a bit, but still laughed, shoving his brother back. "It's your stupid echolocation shit." 

"It's not echolocation," Ryan scoffed, before turning back to me. "I can tell when people I'm really familiar with are around me. Like, they walk differently and they just feel different. And the way he opened the door. Spencer jiggles the door handle a lot when he turns the key."

"It's creepy," Spencer teased, before walking off towards one of the bedrooms. I could tell he was just playing by the way he was smirking. For some reason, it made me so happy to see how well he and Spencer got along.

"Hi Dallon," I said, smiling as he nodded. "What are you guys up to?" 

"We were stopping by to get Spencer's fake because he forgot it," Dallon shrugged. I cocked an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bars tonight with some of the guys. You know, pledge stuff." 

"Right," I grinned. "Well, I mean, have fun." 

I shifted uncomfortably, as Spencer came back out of the room, holding up his wallet. 

"Got it," he said, nodding to Dallon as they headed back out. "Catch you later, Helen." 

I stared at Spencer with wide, unbelieving eyes as the pair headed out the door.

"Helen!" I gasped, as the door shut. "Did he seriously just–" 

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Ryan laughed. "It's a joke." 

"It's kind of messed up though, isn't it?" I wanted to know. I mean, I assumed he was referring to Helen Keller and that was just wrong.  Offensive, really. And from his own brother, too!

"Yeah, but it's normal . . . as in it feels normal. That's one thing I like most about my brother, he doesn't walk on eggshells around me. And I don't want him to, you know? I'm a person. You don't have to pretend to be nice to me just because I can't see," he explained. He got a little heated in that moment, which left me wondering if he'd had some bad past experiences. He softened a little. “He knows that I can take a joke like anyone else can, and I appreciate it. He knows I do, so . . . don’t worry about Spencer, alright? He’s a good guy.”

“That’s good,” I told him, honestly. “I’m glad you’ve got Spencer.”

“Believe me, so am I. Don’t know what I’d do without him,” he smiled. I leaned against the counter again.

“How long have you guys been–“ I said, cutting myself off because I wasn’t sure how to word my question. I was so bad with words, honestly.

“How long have we been brothers?” Ryan offered, seeming pretty nonchalant about the question. That served as extra reassurance that he was cool with answering the question.

“Yeah,” I breathed.

“Well, I met him when we were like, five, I think? And then my dad married his mom when I was six,” he shrugged. “So I barely remember life without Spencer. Might as well be blood.”

“That’s sweet,” I smiled.

 

 


	10. Ten

I always thought it was weird how some classes in college were like, entirely taught by teaching assistants. I mean, what was the point of even having a professor then? Obviously some professors needed help to manage classes of a hundred-plus students, but some of the classes I had were just completely taught by grad students.

For classes like studio art, though, it was great because I actually liked Jon as a teacher. He was patient and not smothering like a lot of art professors were. He accepted my abstract pieces and stabs at surrealism with open arms. He also seemed like he genuinely cared about the students in our class, and in between projects he'd make sure we had a break before diving into the next thing.

"Okay, so I'm sure everyone's familiar with TED talks by now, and I promise I'm about to show you an interesting one," Jon laughed as he pulled up a tab on the projector.

I stared forward, willing to watch the video even though I was really itching to start my next painting. In my experience, these TED videos were hit or miss. Some of them were really interesting, and others just made me want to fall asleep.

_Neil Harbison : I Listen to Color_

I shifted a bit, very interested in the title of the video. _Listening to color? How did one listen to color?_ The speech started and this guy in a very colorful outfit and some sort of antenna attached to his head started speaking.

Apparently this guy was colorblind, and had been equipped with what he referred to as an eyeborg. It was so interesting, because apparently the eyeborg would translate light waves or whatever from colors and he would process them as sounds. I loved colors, so the idea that there were more ways to experience them really piqued my interest.

He was so excited about it, too. And for obvious reasons! He was going on and on about what the different colors sounded like, and it was absolutely incredible. I flipped open my sketchbook and wrote down the title of the video on the inside cover so I wouldn't forget it.

As soon as class was over, I pedaled quickly to the philosophy building. I double checked to make sure I locked my bike, and then ran inside, eager to find my boyfriend.

Ryan was seated in our usual spot. We still had a few minutes before class started, and I was really excited to tell him about the video.

"Ryan! Ryan, I have to show you something," I said, excitedly. I took out my phone and opened the browser, my fingers flying across the keys.

"Wow, cool, looks great," he smiled sarcastically. I let out an amused sigh.

"No, it's a video. You can still listen to it," I said, finishing getting the video set up and handing him the ear buds. He just smiled, took the buds and placed them in his ears calmly as I started the video.

I studied him carefully as he listened to it. I felt so impatient. I wanted him to hurry up and finish so I could ask him about it. I practically jumped out of my chair when the video ended and he took the ear buds out.

"Isn't that cool? It's totally cool, right? You should get an eyeborg," I said quickly. I just thought the whole thing was incredible. Ryan just laughed.

"I'd rather not," he chuckled. "But that is really cool. And it means a lot that you thought about me."

"Of course I thought about you. I think about you all the time," I admitted, probably sounding too much like a lovesick puppy. I didn’t mind though. Ryan just kept smiling before reaching over and placing a hand against my face. I was about to ask what he was doing, but then I realized he was just gauging where I was so he could lean over and kiss my cheek.

I blushed slightly, before having to turn and pay attention to our professor starting class. When I wasn’t taking notes, I was holding Ryan’s hand underneath the desk.

\---

"Hi Dallon," I said, cheerfully, as I entered our room that evening. He looked like he was getting ready to go somewhere. I mean, lately he always had somewhere to go. It was probably a frat thing.

"Hey," he mumbled, seeming distracted.

"Are those salmon colored shorts?" I laughed. It was so weird to me because Dallon never used to be this preppy before. All of his preppy clothes amused me.

"So?" He snapped. "At least I'm not the one wearing a lavender sweater as a dude."

I frowned and looked down at my outfit. It was a lavender sweater with black jeans. I actually thought it was pretty subdued. I bit the inside of my cheek, a little alarmed by the harshness of his words. But I remembered sometimes Dallon was like that, and he was my friend so he probably didn’t mean to yell at me.

"Wow, harsh," I laughed, just taking it as a harmless joke. I sat down on my bed to take my shoes off as he turned to me. He still looked angry and my throat tightened because it dawned on me that he actually wasn’t in a good mood.

"No, you don't fucking get it, do you? " He hissed, in a tone that I had never heard him use before. I held my breath, looking up at him as he continued. "You're a grown fucking man wearing this shit!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, really confused about where this anger was coming from. It also kind of hurt.

"This, Brendon! You dress like a child and you act like a child and I'm done with it, okay?" He said. Okay, that  _really_ hurt. "I'm sorry, I'm only saying this because I care about you and I can’t stay quiet about it anymore."

"I don't understand," I whispered, looking away from him. I felt like I had an awful lump in my throat, like I wanted to cry. Dallon groaned and stepped away. I just did not get why he was so upset with me. What did my choices have to do with him?

"Well, bottom line is, you need to grow the fuck up. I'm not always going to be around to make sure you don't embarrass yourself," he said, his words somehow stinging more and more.

"I'm not embarrassing myself, am I?" I asked, suddenly really worried. I mean, I knew I was sort of a mess but really? I could feel my eyes getting wet already, and I knew _that_ would be embarrassing.

"You're so naïve, Brendon," he said, shaking his head. "You know, I brought you over that one time and the guys still joke about you."

"They do?" My heart was breaking.

"Yeah, you're the  _kid_ that can't even dress himself - the kid that hangs out Spencer's handicapped brother, no less," he groaned. I frowned, more upset that he was being mean to Ryan now, too. And somehow I was more willing to defend Ryan than I was myself.

"Ryan is cool," I said, defensively. I mean, I knew I had shit to work on; I knew I was a wreck, but Ryan was perfect. He couldn't talk about my Ryan like that.

"No, Brendon, neither of you are," he said, darkly. "I'm sorry things are turning out this way, but you need to change."

"I like myself, though," I lied.

"Well, no one else does. Stop living in your stupid fantasy land and wake up," he said, shaking his head. The tears were already spilling onto my cheeks and I wondered if he was done being mean. "And don't fucking wait up for me, I'm done talking about this."

I stared at him, totally in disbelief as he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

I sank back down to my bed and dropped against the pillows. I felt like I had just been slapped in the face with my own heart. Dallon was supposed to be my best friend. He was never mean like this . . . Which is why everything he said felt so serious. If Dallon was yelling at me, then there must have really been something wrong with me.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and used them to cover my face. My entire body ached, and it took every bit of strength I had to keep from falling apart completely. I took a deep breath in and then exhaled in the form of a pitiful sob.

I never knew that words could physically hurt so much.


	11. Chapter Eleven

At about 9 p.m. my phone started ringing. I had stopped crying and all that, but I still didn't feel like talking to anyone. Especially if people were just going to think I was weird or annoying. Dallon’s rant had left me feeling sort of numb, and I couldn’t get his words out of my head.

The phone stopped ringing, and then not even a second later it started ringing again. I sighed and rolled halfway off the bed so I could pick up the phone that had somehow ended up on the floor. I figured if the person was calling a second time, it was probably important.

I brightened just a little when I saw that it was Ryan. I grabbed the phone and pressed it to my ear, toppling to the ground in the process. It was uncomfortable, but I accepted the fate. I just sighed and pulled the rest of my blankets down with me to the floor.

"Hi boyfriend," I said, quietly. At least Ryan wasn’t annoyed by me. I hoped he wasn’t, anyway.

"Hey, can I come over?" He asked, his voice breathy and quick.

"Yeah, I mean, of course. Everything okay?" I asked, hoping nothing was wrong on his end of things.

"I guess. Spencer and is friends are being assholes," he muttered. "The frat guys are here again."

"Oh . . .is Dallon there?" I wanted to know. I guess it didn’t really matter, I shouldn’t have even bothered with Dallon anyway, after the way he treated me. But I still wanted to believe that he was just having a bad night and I ended up caught in the crossfires.

"I think so," he sighed. "Anyway, thanks, I'll be over soon."

"Alright, be careful, it's dark out," I said, before literally slapping myself in the face. God, I really was stupid.

"Yep, it always is," he laughed. "Alright, well, bye."

After hanging up the phone I crawled back into bed, waiting for Ryan to show up. At least if I was feeling down I could have him to cheer me up. He was so great. Holding him close was

He knocked on the door exactly when I expected him to, and I practically jumped out of bed to let him in. It was the most effort I’d put into anything since Dallon left earlier.

"Come in," I insisted. He smiled and stepped inside before I shut the door.

"You know, I'm really starting to hate Alpha Sigma Sigma," Ryan said, immediately, before he even greeted me. I wondered if Spencer was starting to act like a dick like Dallon was. I hoped he wouldn’t yell at Ryan like that.

"Yeah, they suck," I agreed. "They didn't do anything to you did they?"

"What? No, they're just rude. Like they're throwing this party and they're already fucking loud. And then Spencer tried to say it wasn't fair because I'd be able to hear them even if they were quiet," he explained. I watched as he felt for my bed before sitting down. “Which is true, but they don’t have to be so goddamn obnoxious about it, you know? And I wouldn’t be complaining if they were keeping the noise at a reasonable level.”

"That's so mean," I said, empathetically, even though it was hard to imagine him arguing with Spencer.

"What sucks is that I get it, though. Spence just wants friends. I didn't argue with him about it. . . Besides, I'd rather hang out with you anyway," he said, smiling. I sighed and sat down next to him for a moment before just lying down.

"Do you think I'm childish?" I asked, sounding super pathetic.

"No? Why would I think that- wait, where did you go?"

"I'm lying down. . . Behind you," I explained. I lay there for a moment while Ryan kicked his shoes off then turned to lie down next to me. It felt good to have him there with me, and I was so thankful that he called.

"Anyway. . .why would you ask that?" He asked, softly. I felt tears pickling at my eyes again. I didn’t want to cry again, but I just couldn’t help it.

"Dallon thinks I'm childish. . . He says I need to grow up, and that I embarrass him," I explained, feeling even more pathetic now that tears were flowing freely. “He was yelling at me earlier, and I don’t even know what caused it.”

"Well Dallon doesn't know what he's talking about," he assured me. "I think you're amazing."

"I mean . . . I'm not. But thanks," I mumbled. Ryan sighed and moved closer to me, reaching his arm out. I accepted his invitation and snuggled closer so he could hold me there. I leaned in and had my head against his chest. I closed my eyes and inhaled his warm scent. Being in his arms felt so perfect, exactly the type of reassurance I needed. It was a safe space.

"Now, what did I say about being negative about yourself?" He whispered, placing a light kiss against my forehead. "You're awesome, okay? I have never met another person like you, Brendon Urie."

"Why are you so nice to me?" I asked, quietly.

"Because I like you," he insisted, moving his hands up to lightly run his fingers through my hair. "Your hair is so soft."

"No it's not, it's so greasy because I forgot to take a shower today," I whined, bursting into tears all over again. The self-hate and negativity was a harder hole to pull my self out of than I realized. "If I was mature I'd remember stupid things like that."

"Brendon, no," he said, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "Baby, why are you getting so down on yourself? You are absolutely perfect."

"Aww," I whined, nuzzling closer to him. I would never get used to how great he was, or how perfect he was. " _You're_ perfect Ryan. I bet you've got everything in your life figured out."

"That's funny," he chuckled. "You want to know something?"

"What?" I asked.

"I don't even know if I'll finish college, let alone get a decent job after," he sighed.

"Why? You're so smart though," I told him, loosening my grip a bit and kissing his jaw. He had a very nice jawline.

"Thanks. . . I literally had to fight with my parents to let me go to college. They think it's going to be to hard, and I'm too stubborn to listen to them," he explained. "Which, I'll admit, I'm at a severe disadvantage but I'm getting through it."

"Oh," I said, not sure what to say. Honestly I wouldn't even be able to do what he was doing. It was part of the reason why I admired him so much.

"And I even compromised and waited a year so that I could live with Spencer–He’s a year younger than me. . . Which sucks because I hate that they want him to look after me and I know he hates it even more," he explained.

"You don't need anyone to look after you, you're so. . . You're so perfect," I sighed, lightly running my hand across his cheek. I had said that about a million times already, but it didn’t make it any less true.

"I'm not though, like, Brendon, I don't think I will _ever_ live by myself," he said, sounding slightly choked up. I bit my bottom lip, desperately wishing I had the power to make all of his struggles disappear.

"Why not?" I asked.

"My parents don't trust me," he sighed. "Which I mean, they're my parents, of course they'd be over protective. I mean I don't have the best track record, either."

"And what does that mean?" I asked.

"It doesn't mean anything, really. I probably mess up the same amount as any seeing person would . . . But they just flip out and use accidents as reason to keep me in a bubble. Like, okay, in high school I got hit by a car-"

"What!" I shrieked, mostly shocked by how casual he was about it. Getting hit by a car definitely sounded like a big deal.

"Yeah, it wasn't a big deal, I just was crossing the street and I heard the walk signal so I started walking and this asshole was trying to turn on a stop light and yeah. The car literally just tapped me and I fell, but holy  _shit_ everyone freaked out," he explained, shaking his head in disbelief. "You'd think I was dying or something. But really, all that happened was I scraped my elbow and that was it."

"That's crazy," I breathed, before we fell into a moment of silence. I thought about everything he said and realized that maybe he wasn't perfect, but that was okay. He was still perfect to me, and I loved him even with his so-called flaws.

"I just want them to trust me," he said, quietly. I let out a long sigh and shifted a little so I could press my lips against his. I would never tired of that feeling I got when our lips touched.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me again. I moved my lips against his, my chest fluttering like crazy as he held me closer. His lips tasted so nice, and they felt so warm. They definitely moved with fervor but there was nothing rough about it. It was sweet and slow and I really liked kissing him.

No, wait. I l _oved_ kissing him. He was just so warm and beautiful and perfect and I just. . .

I loved him. I really did. 

The realization hit me hard and my chest bubbled with excitement. I broke from the kiss momentarily because I wanted to tell him– I wanted to shout it from the rooftops– but then he spoke first.

"I love you," he breathed, effortlessly. Automatically, my lips curled into a grin so big that physically could not go any further.

"I was gonna say that!" I exclaimed, laughing. Ryan laughed, too, pausing momentarily so he could kiss me again. I pressed my lips against his firmly before he pulled away.

"Well then, say it!" He insisted, still grinning like crazy.

"I love you, too, Ryan."

 

 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

We stayed up talking for most of the night and he ended up just sleeping over. I had never shared a bed with anyone before, but sleeping curled up next to Ryan was beyond comfortable. I found out that I loved the comfort of having him there next to me.

The next morning I learned that waking up in the arms of someone I love is literally the best feeling in the world. When my eyes fluttered open, my head was still against Ryan’s chest, and he had an arm draped over me.

"Good morning," he breathed, shifting his position. I didn’t even realize he was awake.

"Morning, how'd you know I was awake?" I chuckled. He still had his eyes closed, but I guess that didn't matter anyway. I noticed a small grin.

"I can just tell," he smiled, before letting out a long yawn that I found absolutely adorable. He rolled towards me as he stretched and placed a kiss against my forehead.

"Did you sleep alright?" I asked him, trailing my fingers along his shoulder. "I know the bed is small, but . . ."

"I slept well, Brendon I promise," he chuckled reaching out and clasping his hand against my cheek. "Thanks for letting me spend the night."

"You're welcome," I said, cheerfully, putting my hand over his. "Actually as in, you are welcome any time . . . I mean unless Dallon's here and he doesn't want visitors -"

"Right, roommate agreements, I got you," he laughed, kissing me again. "So what's on- hold up, someone's at your door."

I frowned, because he said that at least a full beat before the doorknob turned and the door swung open. Well then.

"Wow, you really do have great hearing," I said, admirably as I propped myself up on one elbow to see Dallon coming in. I held my breath, hoping he wasn't still angry with me. I wanted to be pleasant either way, and I wasn’t one for staying hostile. "Hi Dallon."

"Shhhhhh. . . Volume. _Please_. . ." He groaned, dropping into his own bed. He kicked his shoes off and pulled the covers over him. "I've got the _worst_ hangover ever."

"Are you okay?" I asked, still concerned.

"Yeah just . . . Too much alcohol," he muttered, folding his arms over his face. He took a deep breath, letting himself settle in before he turned to me again. “Looks like you had some fun while I was gone."

"Oh yeah, I did, Ryan came over and we just–"

"Whoa, whoa, I don't want to hear about it," he laughed, which confused me. At first I thought he was just back to being mean again, but then I realized what he meant.

"Why not? We just- oh.  _Oh. N_ o– no, Dallon that's not what happened," I insisted, feeling my face turning bright red. This was so awkward. He thought we slept together. Which, I mean, we did, but we didn’t _sleep_ together. Oh man.

"Sure it isn't," he smirked.

"He's just teasing," Ryan sighed, casually. I dropped it as Dallon laughed and rolled over so that he was facing away from us. I didn't know why I got so awkward about things like that. I mean, I had never like, had sex with anyone before. I wasn't sure if Ryan had or not, but even still just thinking about it made me nervous.

After lying around for just a little while longer, Ryan and I got up to go and get breakfast. According to him, there was a diner we could get to by bus that served great waffles and offered a student discount. I thought it was pretty cool how he was so in-the-know about these sorts of things.

"Hey Ryan?" I asked him, as we left my building to walk to the bus stop. "Can I hold your hand?"

"I don't need help, Brendon," he reminded me, which happened to be the exact reason why I asked him about it first. He was very adamant about his independence and I didn’t want to intrude on that. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

"I know, I know, I just meant . . . as like a couple-y thing to do. I just want to hold your hand," I said, getting excited just at the thought of walking around with my hand wrapped in his. It sounded so romantic.

"Um, I mean . . . Okay, yeah," he said, finally relaxing and just holding his free hand out. Our fingers felt like they fit together perfectly and that made me so happy. I also tried my best to make sure Ryan was at least half a step ahead of me at all times so he didn't think I was trying to lead him anywhere.

"Okay, so then can I ask you something?" He said, only a few moments after we connected. Our fingers were laced together tight.

"Yeah, of course," I said, smiling.

"I don't mean to make things awkward, of course, but I was just thinking about what Dallon said this morning," he started, and I immediately felt myself getting nervous. What about what Dallon said? "I mean, would you be interested in that?"

"I . . . yes? I've never done it before, though, like, I don't know," I breathed, trying to sound as casual as possible. I was especially going to feel awkward if it turned out that it wasn't something Ryan was nervous about at all. What if he was like, some sex expert or something? Yikes. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks already.

"Neither have I," he laughed, and just like that the anxiety lessened.

"Wait, really?" I asked, just for the reassurance. At least I could know that I wasn’t alone in this.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm not exactly anyone's ideal hook-up," he chuckled, and I thought that was just absurd.

"You'd be _my_ ideal hook-up," I said, without even thinking. It just slid right out, just so natural. But it was cringe-y as hell. "I mean, not that I would even want to hook up."

"So . . . wait so you do or you don't?" he asked, taking his own turn to be confused. I really wasn’t making any sense with my ramblings.

"Ugh, I mean I do. I just . . . I love you and I don't want it to be a hook-up, you know? I want it to be _so much more_ than that . . . and at the same time I just don't want to disappoint you," I admitting, ending my sentence on a significantly lower note. Sex was such an intimate thing, and I didn’t want to mess it up. Especially not with Ryan.

"Well, I highly doubt you would disappoint," he assured me, lowering his voice slightly. "I already like kissing you, and I was already getting turned on when we made out in your bed last night."

"Yeah," I said, already missing that experience. My breathing faltered as I got this bit of a rush in my chest. I suddenly couldn't wait to hold him that close again. "That was pretty hot."

"I know you are," he smirked. I just laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, thankful that even talking about awkward things was pretty easy with him.

We had breakfast at the diner and I listened in awe as Ryan went on about his favorite things on the menu. I didn't know exactly what it was, but there was just something incredibly attractive about watching him talk about food. It was like you could just see the passion in his mannerisms and hear it in his voice. I also knew how significant it was for him, as if he appreciated his other senses simply because he lost his sight. I would never be able to fully understand what that was like or what that meant.

After breakfast, we went our separate ways as he had to get back to his apartment to find out if it was in shambles from the frat party the night before. I, on the other hand, headed back to my dorm room where Dallon was looking a little bit more awake and functioning.

"Hi," I said, albeit nervously. I wondered if he was being nice earlier because Ryan was over. I hoped he wasn’t about to go off on me again, because I wasn’t quite sure I could handle something like that.

"Hey, how was breakfast?" he asked in a surprisingly friendly tone. I eased up a little, appreciating the effort.

"Um, it was good. I had waffles," I said, going over to my side of the room. I took a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Hey, look, Bren, I just wanted to apologize about last night, okay?" he said. I spun around, smiling. It was actually great to hear him apologizing because it showed that he cared about the fact that he upset me. "And I want to make it up to you."

"You do?" I asked, feeling that glimmer of hope.

"Yeah, I um, for Alpha Sigma Sigma's next event we can each bring a guest, and I want you to be my guest," he said, giving me a warm smile. I smiled brightly, already set to accept the invitation.

"That sounds great!" I said, excitedly. I knew Dallon was just having a bad night. He was still my best friend and things were going to be okay between us after all.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"I don't know, Ryan, I'm just so excited, you know?" I gushed to him as we walked towards my dorm. We were talking about the event party-thing that Dallon invited me to. I was even _more_ excited because I found out that Ryan was invited as well, and I was really interested in giving them a chance, because they were going so out of their way to be nice. It was a bonus that Vic was going to be there, too, because it meant I had a bit of a safety net if things got awkward.

"Yeah, I mean it's just a dumb party," he shrugged, less interested in it than I was. "I'd much rather just hang out with you." 

"I know," I sighed, giving him a loving smile as we entered the building. He was letting me hold his hand again, even as we got to the elevator. "I mean, like, what should I wear though?" 

"Ooh, wear that blue shirt, you look great in that," he suggested, excitedly. I turned to him and gasped, because, hello! That was a great idea!

"Yes that's a great idea! Do you mean the one with the– _wait_ a minute," I said, realizing that he was only joking. Ryan just laughed and laughed. One of these days I would catch on and not fall for it. Some day.

"That never gets old, I swear," he chuckled. I just sighed and continued on up with him to my room. We were coming back from a sort-of date night that just consisted of getting coffee at a place that, of course, Ryan recommended. 

"Yeah, yeah," I sighed. I unlocked the door and went in with him. I noticed that the more he came over, the less he seemed to feel around for things. I would have to remember to not make any random furniture changes. That would probably come across as cruel.

"So Dallon's out again tonight?" Ryan asked as I sat on my bed and took off my shoes. 

"Yeah, he's got some meeting to go to, but he said he'd be home by like, eleven, or so," I shrugged, standing up again as my eyes fell to my pajama pants that I had left on the floor earlier. I glanced towards Ryan momentarily before deciding that it would be totally fine if I just changed my pants in front of him. I mean, he wouldn't really know, right? Was that weird? Pajama pants would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than the tight jeans I was wearing.

He sat down on the bed and I quickly shimmied out of my jeans before bending over to pick up the pajama pants that would be  _much_  more comfortable–

"You can leave them off if you want," he said, catching me off guard. I froze and stared at him, dropping the pants like I just got caught red-handed. He chuckled awkwardly and turned towards me. 

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused.

"I have, like super sonic hearing, remember?" he smirked, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Oh gosh. I couldn’t imagine how weird it must sound to him, to hear me getting undressed with no explanation. I guess I wasn’t very slick after all.

"So um . . . you want me to just be in my underwear?" I asked, feeling a little bashful all of a sudden.

"I mean, that'd be nice," he shrugged. He seemed like he was being really cautious of his words. "Remember what we were talking about the other day?" 

The temperature just went up and up and I didn't know what to say. I was bad at flirting let alone seducing! Suddenly the room felt like it was a million degrees.

"Oh god, um, yeah, the sex thing right?" I asked, my voice a little shaky. Jeez, I really was a loser sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes. 

"Yes, the  _sex thing_ ," Ryan laughed. 

"Oh," I said, nervously going over to the bed. "I don't know what to do." 

"Well, what do you want to do?" he asked, turning towards me. I stared at him for a few moments, letting my eyes trail over him. He was so perfect, and so handsome, and I knew he loved me. That was plenty a reason for me to calm down. 

It was okay. Ryan was a nice person, and I trusted him. I loved him. I felt a smile creeping across my lips as I reminded myself that I wanted this just as much as he did, and even if it was weird at first, it was all going to be okay.

Without speaking another word, I leaned forward and connected our lips, moving them against his soft and slow. He responded by matching my pace, keeping the kiss sweet. I moved forward, gently leaning him back so that we were both lying down on the bed. 

I pressed my body against his, inhaling deeply as I took in the sensation. He was just as warm and comfortable as he always was. But knowing what we were trying to do, just heightened the experience a bit.

"I love you," I told him, quietly, as he slipped one of his hands under my shirt. I shivered at the contact, then went back to kissing him for a little longer before I took my shirt all the way off. Ryan smiled and ran his hands along my chest and over my abdomen. I knew he couldn’t see me, but he seemed to like what he was feeling up, so that gave me a bit of a confidence boost.

"I love you too," he added, even though it was a while after I said it. 

I dipped back down and kissed his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. From there on, things only got hotter and hotter.

\---

"Are you sleeping over?" I asked Ryan, in a tired voice. I aimlessly played with a strand of his hair, really just doing anything to stay physically connected with him. I didn’t want to let him go, ever.

"I can if you want me to," he offered. I snuggled against him more and nodded into his shoulder. Yes, that would be lovely, wouldn’t it?

"Yes. Please stay," I said. He rolled slightly so that he was on his back and I was resting comfortably against his chest, my skin against his. I slipped my arms around his waist. Everything felt so amazing. I mean, yeah, I was pretty sore in a certain area but besides that.

I never thought that I'd be into someone enough to do that with them. Actually, I didn't think I'd find anyone that wanted to do it with  _me._ Yet, here I was, basking in the afterglow and loving it.

"Door," Ryan said, pulling me from my thoughts. I gasped and pulled the covers further over us as, sure enough, the door swung open and Dallon entered. That made me a little more self-conscious. He didn't seem to be in a bad mood or hung-over this time, so that was good. I hoped he didn't mind Ryan being here. 

"Whoa, hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" He teased. I blushed and shook my head quickly. How awkward.

"We're finished," I said, then realized after the fact that it was probably an awkward thing to say. I wanted to pull the covers all the way over my head and disappear. Dallon just laughed though, shaking his head like he thought it was funny. My cheeks burned.

"Whatever," he chuckled. "I'm going to bed. Just don't keep me up with your shenanigans."

"Um, okay," I mumbled, before lying back down with Ryan. Ryan just gave me a playful grin and snuck in another kiss before we settled back down.

\---

"Okay, okay," I said, quickly, bounding back towards my closet and trying not to trip over anything I left on the floor. "So what if I just wear the striped sweater and the _red_ pants?"

"Red pants, Brendon? Seriously?" Dallon groaned. I gave him a pout and he just shook his head. "Whatever. It matches better than the other choices."

"Ooh and what if I took a flannel, and the plaid against the stripes- I'd look like a collage!" I laughed, pulling out one of my plaid flannel shirts. How fun would that be?

"No, Brendon, please don't," Dallon sighed. "What you have on now is fine, ok? Plus, we've got to head out soon."

"Alright," I sighed, settling with the striped shirt and red pants. It was still a pretty bold look. I set aside the clothes I was going to wear so that I could finish getting dressed.

I was totally ready for this to be an amazing night. I had my best friend with me, my boyfriend was going to be there, and I'd get to meet some new people too! I was confident for once that I was going to play it cool and not embarrass myself in front of Dallon’s friends. This time they would like me, and this time, maybe Ryan and I could be friends with them as well.

What could possibly go wrong?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *warnings apply

I rode the night bus with Dallon like I did the first time we went to a party. This time the party was at the frat house instead of at Spencer and Ryan's apartment, and it was only slightly further away. But apparently the space was bigger, and they needed the extra space if everyone was bringing guests.

"Dallon, I'm going to try my best to be totally chill, okay?" I told him, ironically losing my balance as the bus hit a small bump. Dallon just chuckled and rolled his eyes as I picked myself up. But I meant it. Maybe the whole frat process had been stressful for him, and if I could make his life just a little easier I would.

"It's fine, just, do whatever okay?" He said, reassuringly. I gave him a worried look and he smiled again, putting a hand on my back."I won't even give you shit about fruity drinks . . . I mean, as long as you take shots with us." 

"Oh, I don't know, I don't really like taking shots, you know? I'm not very good at being drunk," I laughed, awkwardly. I mean, really though. I had a hard enough time functioning while I was sober and I didn't really like the way I felt the one time I had been drunk before. 

"No one is," Dallon laughed. "I promise, it'll be more fun that way." 

"Oh," I said, shrugging bashfully. I thought about it for a few more moments before finally giving in. "Okay, but be sure to cut me off if I get too crazy." 

"Yeah, sure, because you're a party animal, right?" he asked, sarcastically. I just shrugged and followed him as the bus came to a stop. We walked a little ways up a sidewalk and up to the house that the party was already well underway in. Blaring lights, pounding music, and an air of smokiness. I briefly wondered how they could do all of this without getting in trouble.

The building was packed full of people, and I was overwhelmed right away. 

"I wanna find Ryan," I told Dallon. 

"No, come with me first, you can go make out with your boyfriend later," he teased, nodding down the hall. I sighed and followed him again, though I kept a close eye out for Ryan. I didn't see him anywhere though, so I thought that maybe he and Spencer hadn't shown up yet. 

Dallon and I met up with two guys that I recognized from the first party I went to with Dallon. They were standing at a table lined with paper cups and handing them out to people. 

"Hey, it's the D-man," the bigger guy with the beard said, his speech already sounding slurred. I just smiled awkwardly as Dallon bumped fists with him or whatever. 

"Hey, yeah, you remember Brendon, right?" Dallon said, referring to me as both guys turned to look. I gave a small wave as the other one grinned.  _Good impressions, good impressions_. I wanted these people to like me, for Dallon’s sake.

"Oh yeah, Brendon. Nice pants," The other guy chuckled. I smiled. 

"Oh, wow, thanks," I said, happily. I guess these guys could be nice after all. 

"Anyway, I'm Shane, this is my VP, Zack," he continued. "You can just let us know if you need anything at all. Have fun, and don't be afraid to get fucked up." 

Zack then handed me one of the paper cups and I peered inside to see only a small amount of clear liquid. I twisted the cup in my hand nervously. The liquid inside didn’t look very appealing to me.

"What is this?" I asked, nervously. 

"It's a shot, just throw it back," Zack said, as if it should have been obvious. I glanced towards Dallon who was giving me an expectant look. I sighed and just downed it as quickly as I could. It burned and I grimaced. I hated the taste of straight vodka. 

"You alright?" Shane laughed, commenting on the fact that I was grimacing horribly. Oh god, I hoped I wasn't being too embarrassing for Dallon. 

"Yeah, I'm great, I just - I need a chaser," I choked, looking around for something to get the taste out of my mouth. I could feel the liquid warming my insides and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was drunk. To say that I was a lightweight would have been an understatement. 

"Well, here, have a Jell-O shot, they're sweet," Zack offered, handing me another plastic cup, this time with a red gelatin at the bottom. I was unable to suppress a pout, because really, this didn’t seem like it would be much better.

"You don't have like, juice or something?" I asked, looking down nervously at the cup. Then, I looked back up and around like the juice was just going to magically appear for me.

"What, you can't handle a little Jell-O shot?" he snorted. I noticed Dallon looked a little uncomfortable, so I decided to just bite the bullet and try to be 'cool' for him for once. I let out a long sigh and squeezed the Jell-O out of the cup and into my mouth. I mean, it was tasty, but I knew things like that were dangerous because you could get super drunk off them without even realizing it. 

"Alright, well, let's get to partying," Dallon said, steering me away from the two of them. We went into the main room of the house where people were dancing and I really didn't know what to do. Dallon was probably looking for a girl to dance with and I was just looking for my Ryan. 

After a while of standing around I finally found him and Spencer over by the table. I brightened immediately and hurried over to go say hi. I immediately brightened and ran over to him.

"Boyfriend!" I said, excitedly as I approached him. I was already feeling buzzed, and as a result I just burst into a small fit of giggles. 

"Hey, Bren," he said, turning to me. He had a bit of a weary smile on. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm great, I'm so _cool ._. . like, just so great," I laughed, placing my hand on his shoulder. I barely noticed Shane and Zack exchanging smug grins with one another. The alcohol was just hitting me really hard really fast. Which, I really didn't think anything of anyway. 

"Really? You sure? You sound a little silly," he teased. I laughed again. He was so funny.

"Because you're funny," I giggled, throwing my arms around his shoulders. "I l _ove_  you."

"I love you too," he grinned, squeezing me back. I just wanted to stand there and hug him forever and ever and ever.

"Well, alright love birds, you should probably split up," Zack said, coming over to me and throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me off of him. I was about to protest when he continued speaking. "This is a party. Gotta meet some new people right? You see him all the time." 

" _Oh_ ," I said, staring at Ryan as Shane did the same to him. 

"I guess that makes sense," Ryan shrugged. "I love meeting new people . . . I'll talk to you after the party, Bren." 

"Okay!" I said, excitedly, as Zack turned me around and lead me down another hallway. I wasn't sure where we were going, but we ended up in a smaller room with another guy that had a scruffy beard and hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. I wondered if he was a part of the frat, too. He was wearing one of the whale shirts, so I guessed he must have been. I had to blink a few times as Zack let go of me, because everything started to spin. I mean, I knew I was a lightweight, but I didn't think I was _this_ light. Ha. 

"This is Brendon," Zack said. "Brendon, this is Brent." 

"Hi," I said, grinning stupidly. New friends, right? I assumed in my drunken state that he was introducing us because he thought we’d make great friends. Brent stepped closer and closer to me and I didn't realize how close I was until he finally grabbed my face and kissed it. 

I gasped, startled, and pulled myself back. His lips felt gross and scoffed as he pulled back. What was going on? 

"Hey, no, stop, I have a boyfriend," I laughed, thinking it was just some misunderstanding. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"That's not a problem," he grinned. I backed up again until I ran into Zack and he locked his arms around me. That was probably when I realized that this was a bad, bad situation and I started to struggle. It was difficult, though, because I was practically a limp noodle when it came to strength. The fear set in and all at once I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest, I was so scared. My skin felt like it was on fire.

"No, stop! Please stop!" I shouted, as Brent tried to kiss me again. I struggled again, trying to kick Brent away, but it was useless. He grabbed me roughly by the hips to get me to stop struggling, and Zack clasped a strong hand over my mouth. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, which turned into all-out sobs as he started pulling at my pants. 

\---

I think I passed out at some point, but I wasn't quite sure. 

All I knew is that I was lying on a dirty floor and everything hurt. I had cried myself dry and I could barely even move. I didn't know what to do and I didn't know where Dallon was or where Ryan was. I couldn't even think. 

I just felt so . . . gross. 

I blinked a few times, but the situation still just didn’t seem real. I wanted to just curl up and disappear into the floor. Everything just hurt so much, both inside and out.

I sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot throughout my body. I wasn’t even sure where it was coming from anymore. For whatever reason, they had the sense to put my pants back on, but my shirt was strewn to the side. I closed my eyes tight and let out a shaky breath before I reached for it to put it back on. Being fully clothed helped a little, but not really.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, surprised to see that it still had power. The time read _3:13 a.m_. It made me feel uneasy to think that I had been in that room for hours, and I didn’t want to think about how much of that time I was passed out for and for how much of it they were–

Suddenly, a door opened and light streamed through. Panic shot through me, as I was worried someone else was about to come in and hurt me. I rolled over and hid my face. 

"Please don't touch me!" I cried, clenching my jaw shut as I tried to ease the shakiness in my voice.

"No, Brendon, it's okay, it's just me," I heard Ryan's brother's voice. He spoke calmly, but hurriedly. "It's Spencer. I'm not going to hurt you." 

"Please leave me alone," I whined. I didn’t want to talk to him; I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I felt humiliated. The only person I wanted to see was Ryan, and even then I was nervous about facing him. My stomach churned at the thought of telling him what happened.

"I just . . . I need help. I can't find Ryan anywhere. He's not in the house." 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"What? What do you mean?" I asked, completely forgetting the distress I was in for a moment. "What did they do to Ryan?" 

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asked me, looking confused. I winced as I sat up. Spencer gave me a concerned look and I winced again as he turned the lights on. "Holy shit, what happened to you?" 

He was probably talking about the fact that my hair was a mess; maybe I had a bruise on my face or something. I was still in pain, so I wasn’t exactly standing up straight. Either way I looked rough, and I felt even worse. 

"I . . . it doesn't matter," I said quietly, not willing to even admit to  _myself_ that I had been raped. Just that word going through my head made me sick. I couldn't even think about it. I could barely think about anything, especially knowing that Ryan was in trouble, too. I hoped to God that he wasn't in the same predicament. 

"What, you think someone here beat him up or some shit?" Spencer asked, in disbelief. I shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Fuck, I thought maybe he just wandered off . . .fuck, now I'm hoping he wandered off." 

Spencer came closer and I flinched, but ultimately let him help me to my feet.  _He’s just helping_.

"We need to find him," I said, trying to ignore everything. I told myself that I needed to concentrate on finding my boyfriend and making sure he was okay. I didn’t want to be selfish.

"I'll look for him, you look like you need to rest," Spencer said, sounding genuinely concerned. I shook my head furiously. I absolutely refused to not be a part of finding Ryan. He was mine and I loved him and I needed to make sure he was okay. “I can find Dallon and see if he’ll take you home–“

"No, I'm coming with you," I said, stubbornly, as Dallon conveniently appeared in the doorway. I froze and stared at him. Suddenly, I was just so overcome with rage that my eyes filled with tears all over again. _He_ was the one that made me come to this stupid party- this was his fault! 

"Shit, Brendon, are you alright? I've been looking for you," He said, breathlessly. He stepped closer and I immediately pulled away. 

"Don't touch me," I said, defensively, shaking my head. "I can't trust you anymore, Dallon." 

"What, I'm-" He looked considerably confused. I wondered if he had any idea what had happened, but no matter what, he still let it happen. I wouldn’t have– it wouldn’t have happened if I never agreed to come to this stupid party.

"Guys, we can argue about this later, I need to find my brother," Spencer said, urgently. I agreed with that, so I shut up for the time being. I followed Spencer out of the room and we shoved through the people who were still partying to find the way out. Dallon tagged along close behind me.

Fresh air felt nice, but it didn't make me feel any better. I pulled out my phone and tried calling Ryan. I wondered if Spencer tried calling him, too.

No answer. 

"Ryan!" I shouted out into the night, hoping that his stellar hearing would kick in and he'd be able to hear me from wherever he was. Oh my god, I was so worried about him. I didn't want him to be hurt, and I definitely didn't want anyone to have taken advantage of him. The thought of someone touching him the way they touched me just made my stomach turn and I had to blink back more tears.

"When was the last time you saw him, do you know?" Spencer asked me. I shrugged. 

"It was when I was saying hi to him at the party and then Shane and Zack . . . I bet they did something to him. I bet Shane and Zack-" I said, my voice shaking as I spoke. I couldn't even wrap my head around what was going on, I was so distraught. This was supposed to be a fun night, not a terrifying one! 

"You think they did it? I doubt they would . . . " Dallon asked, confused. I wanted to slap him; I couldn't believe it. Was he seriously defending them? After what they did?

"Yes they would, Dallon!" I shouted, getting angry. "They're assholes!" 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I - fuck, what am I supposed to do?" Dallon asked, exasperated. I could tell he felt guilty, but it wasn't really good enough for me. I called Ryan again, and still got his voicemail. 

"Hey, look," Spencer said, drawing our attention to Shane, who was making out with some girl at the side of the house. They probably thought no one could see them or something the way they were going at it. I was kind of afraid to even look at him, but Spencer marched right over and shoved Shane away from the girl. 

"What the fuck?" Shane said, defensively. "The fuck are you doing, Smith?" 

"Where the hell is my brother?" He demanded to know. Shane stared at him a moment and just laughed, which just pissed me off even further. 

"He'll be fine, don't worry," Shane chuckled. I could tell by the way that he spoke that he was still drunk. And luckily, Spencer wasn't taking no for an answer, and subsequently shoved Shane harder against the wall of the house. 

"This isn't fucking funny, Shane!" he yelled. "You fucking tell me where he is or I swear to god-" 

"Okay, Jesus _Christ_ , get off me," he scoffed, shoving Spencer away before brushing himself off. "A couple of the guys just thought it would be fun to see how well he could get around without that stupid stick thing."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dallon spoke, sounding just as furious with him. I guess that meant Dallon might not have known what was going on. But still, I didn't trust him. Not at all. Not anymore. 

"You're fucking sick," Spencer spat, his eyes glowing with rage. I had never seen him so angry. " _Where is he_?" 

"Chill! Fuck, man, I don't remember-" 

"Well you better fucking remember," Spencer warned, raising his fist. Shane flinched and raised his hand in surrender. 

"Okay, okay, Jesus, fuck, he's in - i don't know . . . .um, oh! The soccer field on campus! That's where they–" 

Spencer didn't even give Shane time to finish before he gave Shane a solid blow to the face. I jumped a little, not expecting the violence, but I guess it didn't matter that much. Now that we knew where Ryan was, all we needed to do was find him. 

"Let's go," Spencer said, running towards campus from the frat house. I tried to run after him, but it was hard to keep up. My motivation was the knowledge that Ryan was probably scared and distraught and I wanted to be there to comfort him. I was cold and in pain, but none of that even mattered to me anymore. 

"Ryan!" I shouted again once we reached the edge of the dark field. There were no lights on the field, so it was hard to make out exactly where objects were. 

But then I heard his voice, and even though it was sad, it was like music to my ears, because it meant that he wasn’t lost anymore.

"Brendon?" he questioned, and I turned in the direction of his voice and could make out his hunched form lying in the grass. I gasped and ran over to him, followed by Spencer and Dallon. 

"Ryan, Ryan, I'm here, are you okay?" I asked, helping him to sit up and throwing my arms around him. Oh god, it felt so good to hold him. It felt so good to be close to someone I actually loved . . . and then I felt guilty. I felt like I had cheated on him, even though it really wasn't my fault. There was just so much guilt and so many emotions. I was a mess. I just hugged him tighter and tried to choke back sobs. This wasn’t a good time for that.

"Oh my god, I'm - fuck, I don't know where I am," he sobbed, sounding panicked. He buried himself into me and I locked my arms around his shoulders. "I was so scared." 

"I know, I know, you're okay," I assured him, even though I couldn't even reassure myself that I was okay. He mattered more, anyway. 

"I want to go home," he said, quickly. "I need to get out of here." 

"I'm here, Ryan," Spencer said, stepping in. "Come on, we're gonna go home now, Dallon's getting us an Uber." 

"I- I need help," he choked, and it broke my heart, because I knew how much he hated asking for help. I knew how much pride he had to swallow, especially to admit to his brother that he needed his help. 

Spencer just nodded and grabbed Ryan's hands to help him to his feet. I watched sadly as Ryan clung to Spencer's arm so that he could lead him off of the field. The four of us walked silently to the street corner where the Uber driver said he could pick us up. The tension in the air was almost unreal.

"God, I'm so sorry all of this shit happened," Dallon finally said, after a while. He sounded remorseful, if anything. "I knew they were planning on messing with you but I didn't think it would be- "

"Wait, you knew?" Ryan asked, sounding just as angry as I felt. He was quicker with his words than I was. "Did you know that too, Spencer?" 

"Um . . . I mean . . ." Spencer said, suddenly looking very guilty. "God, Ryan, I'm _so sorry_." 

"What the fuck!" He shouted. As if on cue, the car we were looking for pulled up, ready to take us home. I felt the hot tears in my eyes again. They knew. Dallon and Spencer knew shit would happen.

"The Uber's here," Spencer said, trying to change the subject. He opened the car door and got in, waiting for Ryan to follow. But stayed rooted where he was.

"No, Brendon and I are calling our own," Ryan said firmly. "This is _bull_ shit." 

"Come on, Bren, this is ridiculous. Just come with us," Dallon begged. I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes all over again. “We’ll talk in the morning, I promise, but now we need to go–“

"You  _knew_?" I asked, hurt. My own best friend set me up to be– to get– "How could you do this to me, Dallon?!" 

"I thought it was going to just be a harmless prank or something, I didn't think they'd _jump_ you–" he said, his eyes scanning over the bruises. I was fuming. I was feeling every emotion I could possibly feel all at once and it was so overwhelming, I thought I was going to explode. 

" _Fuck you_ Dallon!" I screamed, so hysterically that even Ryan reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "Do you know what they _fucking_ did?"

"No, I just said I didn't know they'd beat you up, and I'm sorry, but-" 

"They raped me!" I shouted, causing everyone to go silent, even Ryan. Spencer stared at Dallon and Dallon kept his eyes on me. His mouth was agape, his eyes suddenly wide. Oh my god. Tears were flowing freely and I didn't know how to stop. I was just so, so mad. I was angry and hurt, and I just. I couldn't deal. 

"Bren, I'm–" 

"Go, we're calling our own ride," I said, firmly, though my voice was still shaking. Dallon nodded and slid back into the car. They shut the door behind them. I watched as the driver changed gears and went to do a U-turn in the intersection. 

I was about to turn to Ryan and ask whether or not he hated me, but then something else happened. 

I didn't even see it coming, but from practically out of nowhere, another car sped through the intersection and collided with theirs, sending it spinning into a tree on the other side. 

I gasped, absolutely horrified at what I'd just witnessed. I stared ahead at the scene in front of me, in complete shock. Everything that I was feeling before came to an abrupt halt.

"Bren . . . please tell me that wasn't their car." 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

I stood there speechless for a moment before my mind registered what had just happened. And then in the next moment I was fumbling for my phone. 

"Oh my god," I breathed, my hands shaking as I dialed 9-1-1. I was actually proud of myself for remembering to do that with everything going on. It was like everything that could possibly go wrong was happening and I was just numb to it all by this point. I was sure it was going to hit me sooner or later, though. 

"911, what's your emergency?" a calm voice asked through the phone.

"I need to report an accident," I said, before going on to explain where we were and what happened and all that. I was still shaking by the time I hung up and as I did, I noticed that no one had gotten out of either of the cars yet and it scared me so much. The cars were in pretty bad shape, and I got this twisting feeling in my gut that someone wasn’t going to make it out, and God, I couldn’t deal with that.

"How bad is it?" Ryan asked, quietly, reminding me that he couldn’t see what happened.

"I don't know," I said, cautiously. He hooked his arm around mine as I ventured over to the scene. The car was banged up pretty bad, and there was glass everywhere. Before I even got to the car I could see blood. I bit my lip and my throat went tight again. "Fuck, I don't know what to do." 

"Are they okay? Where are they?" he asked, gripping my arm tighter, as he started to get antsy. "What the hell is going on?" 

"I'm scared to look. There's blood," I said, my voice shaking. Luckily it didn't matter much anyways, because soon after there were sirens blaring as an ambulance and a couple of police cars showed up to the scene. It was good that they were there, but I was still filled with dread.

I wanted to see what was going on with Spencer and Dallon, but Ryan and I got pulled aside by one of the cops. 

"The driver went to make a U-turn and the other car just hit them and - then they hit the tree and-" I tried explaining, though I was getting choked up. Tears blurred my vision again. "My roommate and his brother are in there." 

"I see," the officer said, making a couple notes on a clipboard. He adjusted a couple of the papers before handing it to Ryan. "And what is your account of the accident?" 

"It . . . I mean, I heard the crash," Ryan said, searching for the most polite way to answer that question, as he fumbled awkwardly with the clipboard. What was he supposed to do with that?

"You didn't see it?" he asked, skeptically. I rolled my eyes, but then remembered that if you weren’t looking right into Ryan’s eyes, it was hard to tell that he was blind.

"I can't see anything, sir," he said, earning a second of silence. "I am completely blind." 

"Oh, well then, I'm sorry about that," the officer said, looking a little embarrassed and taking the clipboard. "Wait here for a moment." 

I nodded and turned to Ryan. 

"Are you okay?" I asked him quietly. He let out a quiet ‘no’, and I sighed and wrapped him in a hug. Of course he wasn’t okay, that was a dumb question. He hugged me back and I heaved a sigh of relief. "I love you _so much_ , Ryan." 

"I love you, too," he assured me. It felt good to hear him say that, especially since I knew he had heard me admit what happened at the party. It felt reassuring to know that he still loved me. At least I didn’t have to lose that.

The officer returned a few moments later and informed us that Dallon and Spencer were still alive, but they were both unconscious and being rushed to the emergency room. They wanted room in the ambulance for both of them, so the officer offered to drive both of us to the hospital in his police cruiser. Riding in the back of the police cruiser was a little unsettling for me, but it was over soon enough because the hospital wasn’t too far from campus.

It was a while before we were finally alone again. Another police officer was asking us questions, and so was one of the nurses. They wanted to know information about Dallon and Spencer, so we gave them what we knew. Luckily the hospital staff seemed kind and accommodating for us, because they knew we were worried about our friends. I didn't tell them about what happened to me, though.

"I'm so tired," Ryan said, after a period of silence as we sat in the waiting room.

"Yeah," I whispered, leaning against him. His shoulder was a comfortable place to rest my head, where I could breathe in his familiar scent. I just wanted to curl up with him and sleep this off.

"Hey Bren?" he asked. I stayed leaning against him. The serious tone in his voice kept me on my toes, though. 

"Yeah?" I whispered. 

"Did you . . . did they really do that to you?" he asked, his voice sad. It was as if the idea of it pained him. I bit my lip, trying to block out the thoughts of the nights' events. 

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, quickly. My throat hurt and the idea of re-hashing everything that went down had me so uneasy. "I'm so sorry." 

"No, shhh, baby, don't be sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around me. He placed a kiss against the side of my head. I inhaled deeply, trying to remind myself that I still had Ryan. Everything was shitty right now, but everything was going to be okay. Everything had to be okay as long as I still had Ryan. 

Another short period of silence passed before Ryan shifted.

"Do you have your phone on you? Mine's dead," he sighed. At least he wasn’t trying to talk about the incident anymore. "And I need to call my parents."

"Oh, yeah," I breathed, taking my phone out of my pocket. I opened it and pulled up the dial pad before handing it to him. I sat up straight, feeling cold without his arms. "Here, it's already on the dialing screen."

"Thanks," he said, taking the phone from me and dialing the numbers. I sat next to him quietly as he pressed the phone to his ear.

From the sounds of things, his parents had already been contacted about Spencer and were worried sick when they couldn't get a hold of Ryan. I listened to him going back and forth about things, making sure they knew he was okay and that his phone just died and that he was _sorry_ ­.

"Everything okay?" I asked him. He handed the phone back to me.

"Depends on what you mean by _okay,"_ he chuckled darkly. "They're uh, already on their way here."

"Oh, is that good or bad?" I asked.

"Don't know," he shrugged, casually slipping his arm back around my shoulders.

\---

Ryan and I ended up dozing off a bit. I mean despite everything going on, it was getting to the early morning hours and we were both exhausted. Ryan was slumped back against the couch while I lay across with my head in his lap.

I woke up startled a while later, though, when his parents approached us frantically. They rushed over to us, shaking Ryan to make sure he was awake.

"Oh my goodness, Ryan, sweetie," I heard a woman's voice say. I sat up quickly, looking around in a daze as this lady came and sat down on the other side of Ryan. He sat up straight and turned to her as she put her arms around him. I just sort of awkwardly stayed where I was. The thought crossed my mind that this was Ryan’s stepmother, but then again, he’d known her as such since he was really young. "Oh baby, are you hurt? Are you okay?" 

"Yes, I'm fine, _Spencer's_ the one that was in the accident," he grumbled, reminding her of the situation. I could already see what he meant by them being overprotective of him. 

"Have you heard anything about how he's doing?" his dad, who was still standing, asked. He at least didn’t seem so smothering.

"No," Ryan mumbled. "I don't know. They said he's going to be okay, though." 

"Oh my goodness," his mom sighed, shaking her head. I stayed sitting there awkwardly as his mother turned to me. I tried to sit up a little straighter. "And this is . . . this is the boy you were talking about?" 

That sparked my interest a bit. I guess it meant that Ryan told them about me. I mean, of course he told them he had a boyfriend. I even mentioned it to my mom somewhere along the lines. But I liked knowing that he was just as proud of me as I was of him.

"Yeah, this is Brendon, the boyfriend," he said, reaching over for my hand. I smiled a little and accepted the gesture. It was like he knew I was uncomfortable without me even saying anything. He was so good.

"It's nice to meet you, Brendon," she said, sweetly, before reaching over Ryan to shake my hand. I wished I looked a little better before meeting his parents, but I couldn't really do anything about that now. 

"It's nice to meet you, too," I said, smiling a little. After that I stood up, needing to get away for just a moment. The air seemed too heavy and I wanted space. "I'm going to run to the bathroom." 

"I'm going with you," Ryan said quickly, standing up and latching onto my arm. I thought it was odd at first, but then I remembered he didn't have his walking stick, and wasn’t familiar with the hospital.

"Sweetheart, where's your stick?" Ryan's mom asked, noticing right away. I guess voluntarily holding onto someone's arm for guidance was incredibly out of character for him. 

"I . . . um . . . I lost it," he lied, obviously not wanting to tell them the full story of what happened at the party. That was completely understandable. From what I could see, his parents would flip out if they knew he was bullied by Spencer’s friends and they stole it from him.

"Oh, Ryan, see this is why I said–" 

"Mom, it's no big deal, I promise," he said, defensively. She just shook her head and sighed before we finally headed off to find the bathroom. “I have that other one at the apartment.”

"Your mom seems nice," I offered, once we were alone again. He shrugged. 

"I know she means well, but she's a real nightmare sometimes," he groaned. "But now I'm just thinking that if she finds out we were at a party . . . or depending on how bad Spencer's injuries are, she's going to blow this thing way out of proportion." 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

I stayed at the hospital overnight with Ryan and his parents. Luckily they didn't grill me too much about anything like most parents would when you first meet them. I guess they also understood that Ryan and I were exhausted and that there was a lot going on. I was thankful for that because I don’t think I would have been able to handle an interrogation.

At about seven in the morning, there were doctors that came and said we could visit Spencer and Dallon. Ryan and his parents went to see Spencer, obviously, so I decided to see how Dallon was doing. I was still upset with him, but I wanted to see that he was okay at least. I was mad, but I didn’t want him to be hurt.

When I went in, I wasn't surprised to see that he was banged up pretty bad. He had a line of stitches on one side of his forehead and one of his arms was in a cast. He was awake, though, which was good. At least he was alive.

"Hey," I said, quietly. He just sort of stared at me as I slowly came into the room and sat down in one of the chairs. I wasn't quite sure how to act around him, to be honest. I didn’t plan on staying for long.

"Hey," he said, in a tired voice. His eyes wandered over me, like he wasn’t sure what to say to me. I wouldn’t know what to say to me, either, I guess.

"Are you going to be all right?" I asked him. He sighed and nodded, albeit slowly. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Yeah . . . Apparently my mom's on her way though. I should be fine," he insisted. "Are you-"

"I'm fine. I'm glad you're okay, but I can't talk to you anymore," I said, finally making up my mind. I stood again and made a move to exit the room. That was my final decision. He was going to be okay, and his parents were coming. I didn’t need to be there anymore.

"Bren, please don't go, okay? I'm so sorry about all of this," he said, and I could tell he was being serious. Even still, my eyes watered. “Please, there’s got to be something I can do to make it up to you.”

"I know you are I just - I'm sorry, I can't," I said, finally heading the rest of the way out of the room. He said my name again but I kept walking because I didn’t know how to keep talking to him.

I walked down the white, glaring hallway to find a bathroom. The next thing to do was to catch up with Ryan in Spencer's room, but I didn't want them to know I was crying. I had to at least try to compose myself.

I found a bathroom and locked myself inside before turning to the sink to splash cold water over my face. The water was refreshing but it still didn't feel like enough. I stared into the mirror and suddenly got the overwhelming feeling that I needed to be clean, but I just didn’t know how to get clean enough. I needed new skin.

I felt more awake, but I also felt more  _aware._ It was like it suddenly hit me that I had been violated in a way that I never imagined would ever happen to me. Rape was something I heard about happening to other people. It was stupid to have thought it would never happen to me.

I backed up slowly until I hit the wall, and then sank downwards until I was sitting. I winced because my body ached and the pain just reminded me of Brent and how Zack held me down like he enjoyed orchestrating it. I never knew people could be so awful. I didn’t think people like that existed in my life.

That was when a new round of sobs broke through. I folded my arms and buried my head against them. Everything just felt so wrong and out of place and I had no idea how to handle it. Part of me wished this entire night was just some sort of sick, twisted nightmare, but I knew it wasn't. Everything was going wrong and I didn't even know who to turn to anymore. 

Everything still hurt. I tried not to act too sore in front of any of the doctors or in front of Mr. and Mrs. Ross. I didn't want them asking me what happened or what was wrong with me. I didn't want to talk to anyone about it and I didn't want anyone making a big deal out of it. I just wanted it to go away and I never wanted to be reminded of it.

I was torn from my thoughts as someone knocked on the bathroom door. I gasped and sat up, quickly trying to wipe away my tears. 

"I'm in here," I called, letting whoever was on the outside know that the bathroom was occupied. Oh god. Crying in a hospital bathroom, how embarrassing.

"Bren, is that you?" I heard Ryan's voice say. I bit my lip. Crap. I scrambled to my feet and made another effort to dry my tears.

"No," I lied. But I should have known better than to lie about that to my boyfriend with sonic hearing. That was so lame of me.

"Babe, come on," he chuckled. I sighed and opened the door, for once being thankful that he couldn't see how red and tear-stained my face was. He probably heard it in my voice though. He was good with things like that.

"Sorry," I muttered, trying to scoot past him. 

"Wait, what's wrong?" he asked. 

"Nothing . . . don't you have to go to the bathroom?" I asked, trying to flip the subject back on him. He let out a long sigh. 

"Yeah, but . . . you're clearly upset," he said, softly. "I can wait, let's talk." 

"I don't want to," I insisted. Ryan sighed again and finally just grabbed my hand and I pulled back from him, stepping out of his reach. He felt the air for a minute, trying to gage where I had gone to, and I immediately felt guilty. I finally just bit the bullet and followed him back into the bathroom and closed the door behind us. 

"What wrong? Is something bad with Dallon?" he wanted to know. I shook my head as I blinked back tears. The silence reminded me to speak, and I felt bad all over again.

"No . . . I'm just . . . I don't know," I said, my throat tightening as I got choked up all over again. I hated that I was crying so much. I hated crying in general, honestly. I just wanted to be happy. Why couldn’t people just let me be happy?

"Oh no," he cooed, moving closer and wrapping his arms around me. "Please don't be sad. Is there anything at all I can do? Do you want to go to the police? Hell, we're in a hospital, you could have them–" 

"No!" I hissed, catching him off guard. He flinched a little, not expecting me to snap at him. "That's too much. I can't do that." 

"But Brendon, what they did to you is totally illegal, you could get them sent to jail," he explained, trying to stay calm and rational. “They deserve hell for what they did to you, baby.”

"I don't want to go through all of that, though. I just want it to go away. I want to forget about it," I said, sobbing into his shoulder as he held me tighter. I drew in a shaky breath, trying my hardest to compose myself, but it was difficult. I just felt so broken and beat down that I felt like I was never going to get out of this mindset. And that was terrifying.

"Okay," he said, quietly. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." 

"Thank you," I whispered, holding onto him tight. He held me for a few more moments before finally letting go. I was torn between missing his warmth and being glad that I was in my own space again.

"Hey, wait outside for me, okay?" he asked, softly. I responded quietly and went outside to wait for him while he took care of his business. Whatever. I took that opportunity to calm myself down, and it mostly worked. By the time Ryan came out, I was calmed down significantly. We headed towards Spencer’s room and I guess Ryan had sort of figured out his way by running his fingers along the hallway walls. I didn't want to help him if he didn't need it, so I just kept an eye out to make sure he wasn't about to run into anything. 

We arrived back at Spencer's room without issue, but when we got there, Ryan’s mom met us at the door. I rubbed my hands together uncomfortably; ready to be done with so much confrontation already. Why couldn’t they just let me go in with Ryan and not talk to anyone?

"Oh, Ryan, before you go back in, I need to talk to you about something," She said, in a serious tone. I took note of the way she spoke so slowly to Ryan, and it ticked me off a little bit. Just because he couldn’t see didn’t mean she had to speak to him like he was a child.

"Um, okay, Bren, can you give us a minute?" he asked, forcing a smile. He was trying to be pleasant around his mother, probably knowing that everyone was stressed out.

"No, it's something he'll probably find out sooner or later, anyway," she sighed, and my stomach twisted. What now? Couldn’t the world just like, stop turning for a few minutes and let me breathe?

"Uh- what's wrong, is Spencer alright?" Ryan asked, concerned. 

"Yes, he'll be fine, but the thing is . . . he's going to be needing crutches and a cast and all that - and while you were out of the room, your father and I decided that we want you to come home," She explained. My heart dropped.

“Why do I have to come home? What does that have to do with me?” he asked, defensively, as I continued wringing my hands together to calm my own nerves.

“Well, honey, you need someone to be able to look out for you,” She reminded him, and he groaned out loud. “Come on, don’t be like that. Spencer won’t be out forever . . . you can go back to things in the spring semester. That’s only a couple of months away.”

I frowned at ‘a couple of months’ because that just wasn’t fair. I needed Ryan now more than ever, and the thought of him leaving campus after a night like this just made me so sad.

I reached over and slowly grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight to silently tell him I didn’t want to see him go. He just laced his fingers with mine, and didn’t say anything. And it sucked because I knew neither of us really had a say in the matter.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

When Ryan officially left campus . . . that was the day that everything really started to hurt. I laid on my bed in my dorm room, spread out and staring at the ceiling. I had an art board propped against the wall with nothing on it. My eyes were heavy from crying too much and from lack of sleep. Sometimes all I could do was lay there and it was so frustrating. 

How the hell did I end up like this? I didn't understand how everything could go so perfectly and then get fucked up so quickly. Usually I had no trouble coming up with ideas, but my mind was just a blank slate. I disappointed myself.

I didn't talk to Dallon anymore. Whenever we were alone together, I found an excuse to leave. It was ridiculous, but I found myself waiting for him to fall asleep before I even thought about trying to get to sleep. And even when I tried to sleep I couldn't. 

_ I think I'm broken.  _

It was a thought that crossed my mind many times a day. Even when I spoke to Ryan on the phone, I didn't actually feel happy about it. I mean, yeah, I loved hearing the sound of his voice and the fact that I could still talk to him and that he was still my boyfriend was at least a little comforting. But I couldn’t get the negative side to shut up, reminding me that he was far away and I couldn’t hold him or kiss him or see him.

"Hey," Dallon said to me one day, and I automatically froze. I didn't look up at him. I just braced myself as an automatic defense. I was always on the defense lately. "Relax, I'm just letting you know that I'm going home for the weekend. I won't be here." 

I didn't answer him. I just stayed still, silent. . . Maybe if I didn’t react to him, he’d just go away. Just leave me alone. 

"Okay, whatever," he said, annoyed. He knew why I wasn't talking to him. Dallon wasn't my friend anymore. He was the reason I was raped. It was his fault and I would never forgive him for that. 

Once he was gone, I let go of a shaky breath. I sat up slowly and turned back to my art board. I was so behind in this class and it was ridiculous. I loved art so much, yet I couldn't even find the inspiration to paint the crazy things I used to paint. Just looking at the blank canvas made me so sad.

I needed to turn something in, though, so I ended up drawing a black-and-white portrait of Ryan. I had a picture of him on my phone. He was pretty much the only person I trusted, and the only one who could make me smile anymore. I mean, it wasn't a painting by any means. But paint was messy and I also didn't feel the motivation to mix colors and all of that, and I definitely didn’t have the motivation to clean it up afterward. I mean, I was still good at pencil drawings. I was pretty sure I could still manage a decent grade. 

I turned the drawing in to Jon the next day and he frowned immediately, which was no surprise. I guess I was always just ready to be disappointed. He was disappointed, too, which I knew I deserved. 

"This is . . . I mean, it's good, don't get me wrong it's just . . . " he said, looking for the right words to describe the piece. It was a terrible piece in comparison to my other works; I knew he was just trying to soften the blow.

"It's okay, I know it sucks," I mumbled, looking away from him. 

"No, don't say that," he said, softly. "It's just . . . this isn't you, Brendon." 

"I'm sorry," I choked, quickly wiping a stray tear away with the sleeve of my sweater. I didn't want Jon to see me cry. He was my TA and that would make me look so childish and immature. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, in a soft and reassuring voice. He at least looked genuinely concerned. "Is everything alright?"

I shrugged as I noticed the other students packing up to leave. I chewed my bottom lip anxiously, trying to come up with an excuse to get out of the conversation.

"I'm fine," I lied. I was so, so far from fine. 

"Clearly you're not . . . do you want to talk about it?" he offered. 

"No . . . I have to go to my next class," I insisted. He sighed and pulled a sticky note from his desk and scribbled something down on it. He then handed me the sticky note and I glanced down at it, confused. "What is this?"

"That's my cell phone number. I'm worried about you, Brendon," he said, honestly. I bit my lip and stuffed the paper into my pocket. I felt guilty for making him worry about me. 

"Thanks," I whispered, before finally leaving. I took my bike and rode to the philosophy building. I had to sort of scramble to get inside because I was running late. Part of me really didn't care if I was late, but a bigger part of me didn't want that professor to call me out. I couldn’t cope with that confrontation in the state I was in.

Honestly, though, philosophy was even harder than it was before. When Ryan was there, I would always look forward to sitting next to him and talking to him, and now the empty seat next to me was just a big reminder that I didn't have him anymore. I mean, I did, but he wasn't physically here with me when I needed him most. 

It had already been a couple of weeks since he left campus, and I still couldn't shake this feeling. I missed him so much it was actually painful. As lecture dragged on, I tried writing down everything the professor wrote down, but I didn't feel as though any of it stuck in my brain. 

After what seemed like forever, I stood up from my seat and lazily shuffled out of class. I went over to the bike rack to grab my bike and ride it home. 

But it was gone. 

"No," I gasped, going over to the bike rack and looking around as if it could have been possibly hiding from me. Well, that was just perfect. The most perfect thing just had to happen now in my obviously perfect life. "Fuck!" 

I screamed that out loud and I didn't even care that other students were staring at me as they walked by. Maybe they thought I was crazy, but they just didn’t fucking get it. I wanted to just break down all over again, and really, the only thing stopping me was that my phone started ring. I looked at the caller ID and it made me want to cry for a whole different reason.

"Why the heck are you so perfect?" I whined, commenting on my boyfriend's impeccable timing. 

"Oh, well you know me - hold on, are you crying? What's up?" he wanted to know, concern growing in his voice. I knew he was worried about me, too. Hell, I was worried about me. I remembered he commented on how down I apparently sounded the last few times we talked. I was just disappointing everyone I knew, wasn’t I? 

"Someone stole my bike," I said, my voice cracking again. I took a deep breath and started walking back towards my dorm. It would be a long walk now, but I guess I could manage. 

"Oh no, baby, I'm sorry," he sighed. "How did that happen?" 

"Because I'm stupid and forgetful and I forgot to lock it," I choked, pulling my hood up over my head as I walked so that passersby wouldn't notice me crying. I probably looked like a mess either way, but still. “Why am I so fucking stupid?” 

"You're not stupid, Brendon," Ryan said, firmly. It just made me feel worse because I knew Ryan hated it when I spoke badly about myself.  I just kept upsetting him more and more.

"I'm sorry," I said, in a small voice. 

"Don't apologize . . . I'm so sorry you're having a bad day, Bren," he said, softly. His voice sounded apologetic, and almost sad. "I wish I could be there to hold you and kiss you, okay?"

"Me too," I said, sadly. I tried to think about what it felt like to hold him close, but it all felt so far away. "I miss you so much." 

"I miss you, too," he returned. He waited a beat before changing the subject. "Hey, I was calling because my mom wanted me to invite you over next weekend." 

I had a slight glimmer of hope as he spoke those words, but it immediately left when I realized what next weekend was. 

"That's Thanksgiving, I'm going home that weekend," I sighed. I considered maybe asking my mom if I could just stay here. I could just tell her I'm behind on projects and that I'll see her at Christmas. Yeah, that sounded good. Besides, dinner with Ryan seemed much more soothing than dinner with my parents. "Never mind, yeah, I would love to visit you that weekend." 

"Really? Are you sure? What about your family?" he asked. I sighed. I knew I should see my family, but I knew that the only thing that could even possibly make me feel better was Ryan. 

"Yeah, I'm sure, they'll understand," I explained, brushing them off. “I can just tell them there was a change in plans.”

I actually smiled to myself a little, and the smile almost felt foreign to me. Everything sucked, but at least I had something to look forward to. I just needed to keep telling myself that if I made it through the week, I would get to see Ryan, and that was more important than anything. 

“Well, that’s great news, I can’t wait to spend time with you,” he said, and I could hear the smile through his tone. That was definitely nice to hear. “I love you so much, Brendon.” 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_I felt sweaty and suffocated._   _I pushed desperately through the crowds of people, looking for an exit. My feet felt like they had lead weights tied to them and I could barely move._

_Why were there so many people here? Why couldn't someone just let me leave? I shouted out to the people surrounding me, but it was like I was invisible. It was like my voice was muted and no one was even paying attention. I felt like I was just drowning in the sea of people and all I wanted to do was scream._

_I found a door, finally, and moved towards it. But, as soon as I saw it, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back and I screamed louder._

_"Let go of me!" I cried, ripping my arm away, only to be grabbed by another pair of hands. I screamed again, ducking beneath the crowd in attempt to evade my attackers. But then there was more grabbing and more touching and I felt like everyone in the room was trying to pull me in opposite directions. Every time someone touched me I felt like I had gotten burned._

_I let out a strangled sob as my brain spun, trying to figure out what to do. I yelled out over and over again, trying to find help. Why didn't anyone want to help me?_

_'Brendon!' the people yelled. Yelling back at me just made it worse. I didn't want to be touched, I didn't want to be yelled out I–_

"Brendon, wake up!"

I awoke with a start, sitting up and breathing heavily. I felt my own body all over, just to make sure my clothes were still on, and that I wasn't hurt. Everything seemed to be in place, but I still felt horribly shaken up.

"Brendon, what's wrong?" Dallon asked from my bedside. I gasped and scooted back so that I was against the wall. Why was he talking to me? Why was he watching me while I was sleeping? Was I even sleeping?

"Don't touch me!" I choked, still trying to catch my breath, as I tried to ground myself in reality. It was harder than it seemed.

"I'm not going to, I promise," he said, putting his hands up in defense. He kept his voice soft and even. "You were screaming in your sleep."

"No I wasn't," I said, defensively. I didn't want to admit that I was having a nightmare. That would just be embarrassing.

"Bren . . . are you sure you're okay? You're starting to scare me," he said, looking at me as if he'd seen a ghost. I sure as hell felt like a ghost.

"I'm fine," I insisted, trying to relax. I shook my head quickly trying to get him off my back. "I'm just going to go back to bed."

Dallon stared at me long and hard before finally sighing and going back to his own bed. I waited for him to get in and roll over before I lowered myself back down and pulled the covers over me. I didn't really sleep, though. I kind of just lay there with my eyes closed until I had to get up for class.

\---

Another project in art class meant another day of staring aimlessly at a blank canvas. I let out a long sigh, picking up my pencil multiple times, but never actually making any marks on it. This was absolutely painful. I tried to rack my brain for ideas but it was useless– how did I even do this before? How did I even just attack a canvas head-on?

By the end of the block, I still didn't have anything down, so I just stood up to leave. I was almost to the door when Jon stopped me. I sighed.

"Brendon," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. I jumped and spun around. He looked freaked out, as if he didn't realize I'd jump so hard. It was just the hands and the touching – I was embarrassed to even admit to myself that it made me uncomfortable.

"I have to go to class, and I'll have to run because I don't have my bike and–" I said, quickly trying to explain myself so I could leave. Jon meant well, and he wanted to _talk_ and I just–

"Brendon, I will literally _hand-write_ you a note for your professor or whatever you need if he's really that pressed about attendance.” I bit my lip and shifted uncomfortably as the last few students shuffled out of the room. We were alone again and I had no where to hide.

"Why do you need me to stay?" I asked, in a small voice. 

"I'm worried about you," he said. I averted my gaze, fixating on the floor beneath me. I felt like I had been hearing that a lot lately. Even my mom said she was worried because I 'didn't sound like myself.' I assured her it was just because school was stressful. I mean, it wasn't a total lie. 

"You shouldn't," I mumbled, still without eye contact. 

"But yet I am. Ever since the first day of class you've stood out to me as a very bright, vivacious individual," he explained. I shifted my weight between my feet, looking down at the floor. "And you're one hell of a talented artist." 

I didn't say anything. 

"And now . . . lately every time I see you . . .you're not turning in projects on time. And when you do . . . these charcoal still-lifes are great, but they aren't the colorful Brendon Urie originals I'm used to," he explained. Honestly just hearing him vocalizing the exact thoughts I had about my work made me want to cry. "You look like you haven't slept in days . . . like you haven’t eaten much, either." 

"So?" I said, defensively. Was my train wreck of a mental state that obvious? Jesus.

"I just want to know what's going on . . . I want to help you if I can," he explained. "Not even as your TA, but as a friend." 

"I don't think you can help me," I said, honestly. I mean, I didn’t even know what to do, what made him think he would know what to do? He was just an art teacher. "I'm sorry." 

"At least let me try?" he asked, giving me a sad smile. I shrugged. "Look, let me buy you coffee or something." 

"I have a boyfriend," I blurted out, backing away instinctively. I bit the inside of my cheek, hating myself for doing that. Dammit. I just couldn’t help the defensiveness.

"Relax, it's just coffee," Jon said, smiling as he studied me for a moment. His smile faded slowly. "Or we can just go to my office if you'd be more comfortable with that." 

I nodded, and then waited for him to gather up his things before following him out of the classroom. His office was on the second floor of the art building. Unlike most TAs he actually had some of his own space, but instead of going there he lead me to one of the conference rooms down the hall. 

"Don't worry, just so you can talk without interruption," he offered. I guess that was considerate of him. He closed the door behind us, so that no one would disturb us or listen in on our conversation.

I sat down in one of the chairs as he sat next to me. I felt so uncomfortable. I knew Jon was a nice guy, but the thing was I just didn't know if I could actually bring myself to tell him what was actually going on. 

"So what's getting you, Brendon?" he asked. I shrugged. 

"I mean . . . I guess I'm sad because my boyfriend left campus," I said. That was reason enough to be sad, right? I didn't have to tell him the other stuff. I mean, I actually didn't have to tell him anything. Whatever. 

"Why'd he leave?" Jon asked, just out of curiosity. I met his eyes briefly, finding sympathy and kindness in them. That shouldn’t have been a surprise to me; I knew Jon was a kind person. I still felt uncomfortable though.  

"His brother was in a car accident," I said. I took a deep breath in and then on the exhale it was like everything just came spilling out and I couldn’t stop it. "And he got hurt pretty bad and his mom thinks that he needs to watch after Ryan and since he can't she pulled him out of school and it's just not _fair_." 

"Ryan's the boyfriend?" he clarified. I nodded. "Why does his brother have to look after him?" 

"I mean . . . he really doesn't," I shrugged, then decided to elaborate. "Ryan's blind. And his mom sort of treats him like he's a child that can't fend for him self. So he left . . . and I miss him so much." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jon said, softly. I noticed he was giving me a bit of a suspicious look, as if he didn't quite believe that this was the full reason why I had been acting weird. I fidgeted nervously. I desperately, _desperately_ wanted to be able to tell someone. Besides Ryan I really didn't have anyone anymore, and I did want another friend . . . 

I opened my mouth to speak, but instead of words, only strangled sobs spilled out of me. Jon looked a bit alarmed, so I laid my head down on the table, shaking as I cried. God, this was so embarrassing. I couldn't help it though. It felt as though no matter how much time passed, I was never going to be able to shake this feeling. 

Abandoned. Violated. Alone. 

"It was this - he-" I choked, trying to calm myself down enough to speak. 

"Shh, it's okay," Jon said, calmly, sending a box of tissues my way just in case I needed them. 

"N-no it's not," I said, shakily, choking on my own tears. "I - they raped me, Jon." 

"Oh my god, Brendon," he said, sounding genuinely shocked to hear what I had to say. I laid my head back down, breaking into another fit of sobs. This time, Jon just let me cry as long as I needed to. He didn't say anything; he just sat there, trying to be supportive. 

"Who did that?" Jon asked, once I had calmed down. He didn’t sound angry or judging and I was so thankful for that.

"I can't tell you," I said, shaking my head as I sat up again. I reached for the box of tissues. "I don't want them to find out I told anyone and - oh my god, I– I’m just terrified of–" 

"No, shh, it's okay, it's okay . . . I won't tell anyone, I promise," he said, evenly. His eyes were wide with worry, and his voice was soft as he tried to calm me down. "You don't have to tell me who did it . . . just promise you'll consider reporting it. Especially if it was another student, they could get expelled." 

I bit my lip and nodded slowly, even though I had no plans to do what he was saying. While the thought of Zack and Brent getting expelled was a pleasant one, I just couldn’t begin to imagine going through the process of doing that. It would mean telling people – so many people– and it would mean the possibility of the campus finding out I was violated and I just could not accept that.

I wanted it to go away.


	20. Chapter Twenty

I barely thought I would make it to Thanksgiving, but thankfully I did. It was the longest week ever, but before I knew it, I was waiting to be picked up outside my dorm building. I had a duffle bag with my stuff in it for the long weekend and I was more than ready to go. 

I smiled when Mrs. Ross pulled her car around, and I could see Ryan sitting in the back seat. I walked towards the car and got in, stuffing the bag down by my feet. 

"Hi, boyfriend," I said, happily as Ryan turned towards me and wrapped me in a hug. I took a shaky breath in, trying to hold myself together. His embrace was so comfortable and I forgot how much I actually craved that sort of comfort. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t alone, and I didn’t want Mrs. Ross asking questions.

"Hello, how are you?" Ryan's step mom asked, in a friendly voice. I responded politely, even though I was still mad at her for taking Ryan away from me. That was still not fair at all. Ryan could totally be independent and he was smart enough and mature enough to get on by himself

"I missed you so much," I told Ryan, quietly, as his mom started driving away. I looped my arm through his and rested my head on his shoulder. He was just as comfortable as I remembered, if not more.

"I missed you too," he assured me, dropping his head against mine. I stayed silent for a while, just listening to him breathe while I inhaled his familiar scent. I didn't ever want to let go of him. I wanted to just sit here forever, watching all my problems disappear because Ryan was there to fight them off.

It took about an hour in the car to get to Ryan's house. He lived in a fairly nice neighborhood, and a decent-sized house.  I couldn't help but notice how much easier Ryan got around, though. I mean, this was presumably the house he grew up in, so obviously he'd know it well; it was just startling how different it was. He didn't need a walking stick, and he didn't need to hold onto the walls or furniture. 

"You can put your stuff in my room," Ryan told me, leading me down one of the hallways before turning into the one that was his. I smiled and followed him in. I didn't know what I was expecting out of his room, but it certainly wasn't what I saw. 

Almost every inch of the wall was covered in the most random assortment of stickers and poster and whatnot. I got distracted for a while, just looking at everything that there was to look at. I couldn’t find a single blank space anywhere.

"Why do you– " I started to say, trying to think of the best way to pose the question. 

"Why do I what? The posters?" he asked, laughing. He held his arms out as if presenting his room to me.

"Yeah," I said, my eyes still wandering around. There was no connection between any of them, it was like a big collage of random . . . I don’t even know what. 

"In a way, it's kind of just a sick joke I play on myself," he shrugged. "Like . . . I don't know how describe it, but I like it. Spencer always finds me posters and pictures and stuff and hangs them up in here. There's no rhyme or reason behind it, really. I like knowing they’re there." 

"I think it's cool," I offered, in a small voice as Ryan moved to shut his door. I smiled politely and let my eyes follow him as he took a seat on his bed.

"But yeah, that's that . . . can we talk, Brendon?" he asked, switching gears in a way that made me really nervous. For some reason, those three words sounded incredibly ominous and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

"What do we have to talk about? What's wrong?" I asked, defensively. Was something wrong? Was he breaking up with me? Oh God–

"Whoa, whoa, nothing's wrong, I didn't mean it that way," he assured me. I relaxed a little bit at least. "Come here, sit." 

I sighed and sat down with him on his bed, wondering why he wanted to talk to me like this. As soon as I was settled in next to him, he reached across me and held my hand, which made me feel better. It was crazy how something small like that from him could be so comforting. Sometimes I was convinced that he had some sort of magic spell over me, making me feel safe and secure so easily.

"I just wanted to talk to you about how you're doing," he said, his voice taking on a very serious tone, which indicated that he was talking about something very specific. 

"Um," I said, looking for the words. I wanted to just forget about it and enjoy my time with Ryan, but I also really wanted to talk to him about everything I hadn't been able to talk to him about. I knew I could at least be honest with Ryan. "Not very well." 

"Oh, baby," he said, sadly. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my shoulder. Tears spilled over my eyelids and I reached up in attempt to wipe them away. "Tell me everything." 

"I don't know, I just haven't been sleeping well, and I feel like . . . I feel like I'm in a bubble all the time and I can't concentrate on anything . . . and I just always miss you," I sobbed, finally venting to him the emotions I'd been dealing with since the day he left. It hurt to cry so hard, but it felt good in a way. "I don't know what to do about it. I don't know how to fix myself." 

"First of all," he said, pausing to kiss my cheek. His lips were soft and gentle as they brushed against my skin. "You're _not_ broken. Second, I love you  _so_  fucking much; more than anything. And finally . . . I _really_ think you should talk to someone about this." 

"I'm talking to you now," I said, pouting. What did he mean by that?

"No, I mean like . . . like a therapist or something," he suggested. I looked down into my lap, not sure what to say. “I think they could help you feel better.”

"I don't want to tell anyone," I admitted, shaking my head. . "I just don't want anyone to know." 

"Why not? Those - they deserve to be punished for what they did to you, Brendon. Man, I just get so mad thinking about it," he said, the anger clearly showing through his voice. 

"Please don't be mad," I pleaded. Ryan sighed. 

"I'm not mad at you. I'm never mad at you," he assured me, moving to kiss my forehead. I took a deep breath and wiped away a couple of stray tears with my sleeve. He was so gentle with me and it made my heart swell with adoration for him. "I just hate that you're so upset after this." 

"Me too," I admitted. I twisted around and wrapped my arms around his waist, then buried my face against his chest. He held me there for a moment, just lightly running his fingers over my back. It was so nice to have someone I actually trusted touching me. It was nice to lie here with him and not have to worry about being afraid. As long as I was in his arms, nothing bad could happen to me.

A little while after our conversation, Ryan's dad called us to dinner. I came out to the kitchen with Ryan, interested to see that everyone was already at the table. They liked to eat dinner as a family, so Spencer was there as well. His leg was still in a cast, but from what I heard he was doing a lot better. He looked up and gave me a familiar smile, and I tried to smile back.

"Thank you for having me," I made sure to say to his parents. 

"It's no problem . . . it's good to get a chance to get to know Ryan's um . . . Ryan's boyfriend," Mr. Ross said, as if he had a hard time vocalizing that. 

"Something wrong, dad?" Ryan asked, picking up on it, too. He didn’t seem to have a problem challenging his dad’s hesitancy either.

"Nothing, I'm just still surprised you're into men is all," he said, awkwardly laughing it off. The way his laugh sounded told me that he wasn’t necessarily homophobic. I guess that was good.

"I'm not necessarily into men . . . I'm just into Brendon," Ryan said, proudly. I smiled, turning towards him as his hand dropped to my knee, giving it a light squeeze.

"And Brendon's a guy, so that's gay," Spencer teased. 

"What can I say? Love is blind and so am I," he said, earning chuckled from both his dad and brother for his clever remark. 

"Ryan, that wasn't funny," Mrs. Ross snapped. It kind of caught me off guard. She wasn’t smiling, either so she wasn’t joking around like everyone else was.

"What?" Ryan complained. 

"You know I don't like those jokes," she hissed. I guessed she was referring to the blind jokes, which was odd because I knew Ryan made them all the time. I personally thought he was so funny, I couldn’t imagine anyone thinking he wasn’t.

"Well, you're not the one who can't see, so I don't know why you're getting offended," he came back, a definite sassiness in his voice. I bit my lip, feeling awkward amidst the slight argument. 

"Ryan, just be nice to your mother," Mr. Ross sighed. Ryan groaned quietly then went back to eating. I still felt a bit of tension in the air, and dinner continued on a rather uncomfortable note. Spencer started talking about something else, which engaged both parents, and eventually Ryan again.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

To be honest, it didn't take long for me to realize how much Ryan's stepmother really did baby him. She practically hovered over him everywhere he went, serving as a constant reminder of his disability. Whenever he’d move from one room to the next, she’d shift positions, watching him like she thought he needed to be. I guess in some twisted way it just showed that she cared about him. But it was also disheartening how she'd shoot him down every time he attempted to joke about it. I was guessing it was probably why he had no problem pretending like he wasn't still mad at Spencer. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm definitely _never_ forgiving him . . . for now," Ryan explained, when I asked him about it. We had finally gotten some alone time and were taking a walk around his neighborhood. He seemed to know the street almost as well as he knew his house.

I was just curious about his situation with Spencer because I didn't ever see myself being able to talk to Dallon in the same way again. Granted we ended up in different situations but . . . still.

"Really? You act like you're still super close though," I pointed out. I looked down at our intertwined hands and lightly brushed my thumb against his.

"Well, yeah, I mean for one thing, he's still my brother and I still love him. And on top of that, I know neither of us want to find out how she'd react if she found out what actually happened," he said, adding a dark chuckle. 

"Wouldn't Spencer just get in trouble? You didn't do anything wrong," I pointed out. 

"Yeah, but I'd still get consequences . . . like if she didn't trust Spencer, I'd _never_ get to go back to school," he said, peaking interest. 

"Wait, you're coming back?" I asked, excitedly, hoping it would be sooner rather than later. All I wanted was to just see him every single day like I did before this mess.

"Yeah, for spring semester," he grinned. "I mean, it's too late to finish everything I've missed, plus I've already been pulled out . . . I might take a winter class or something, but yeah. Spencer should be better by then, so I'll be back in January." 

"Oh, that's so good to hear," I sighed. Good. This was good. Hopefully it would be a first of more good things to come. Then again, I didn't feel like I knew what good things would even be like any more. "What if we could be roommates?" 

"As much as I'd love that, I don't think it would work out. Deal is I stay with Spencer, and our apartment is already full . . . like the other guys don't plan on moving out and they're pretty good roommates so–" 

"Yeah, I understand," I said, feeling a little bit defeated. "I just . . . I feel like I need to change roommates . . . because it's just painful to be around Dallon right now." 

"Yeah? Is he doing anything to you?" Ryan asked, suddenly defensive. 

"No, I mean, he gets irritated because I won't talk to him still, but other than that he hasn't done or said anything bad," I explained, calmly. "He still goes to his stupid frat meetings, though." 

"Well, yeah," Ryan said, sounding annoyed as well. "Spencer is still talking to them, too." 

"I still don't understand why they'd do this to us," I said, feeling a bit dejected. After all the years I spent with Dallon being my best friend, I just couldn’t believe things had come to this. Hanging out with Ryan over Thanksgiving break definitely made me feel better, but there was still a huge part of me that felt empty. 

"I don't know," he said, quietly. 

\---

Unfortunately, though, my time with the Ross family seemed to go by way too fast. Family dinners and quality time with Ryan just flew by and before I knew it, I found myself clinging to Ryan in bed the night before I would have to leave, crying hard. I was probably being ridiculous, but the thought of leaving him just hurt so much. 

"Bren, sweetie, it's going to be okay," he told me, softly, running his fingers soothingly through my hair. It felt nice, but I was still upset. I held onto him tight, pressing my face against his chest as I cried. He was so warm and I knew he was the only one who could comfort me. I held on, feeling like I couldn't get close enough to him. 

"I just don't want to go back by myself, I don't want to leave you," I sobbed. "I hate being alone; I hate it so much." 

"I know, baby, I know," he said sadly, kissing my forehead. "I know, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better, but I can't right now. You know you can call me whenever you need to, okay?" 

"But I want you," I sobbed. I swore I was at least _trying_ to stay calm but it probably didn't seem like it. It just wasn’t working. I was an absolute mess. I didn't know how the hell I expected to handle actually leaving him the next day. 

"You have me," he promised. "I'm right here, okay? I'm never going to leave you, alright?" 

"P-promise?" I choked, attempting to wipe away some of the wetness from my face. 

"Of course," he breathed moving forward to kiss me. I melted against him, enjoying the spark of reassurance that his lips allowed. I slowly moved my lips against his, as his tongue gently brushed against them, making me shiver a bit. 

I was definitely calmed down, distracted by his mouth. I reached up to wrap my arms around his shoulders so that I could continue to kiss him. He was so perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

"I love you," he mumbled against my lips, as he tightened his arms around me. I clung against him tighter, balling his shirt between my fingers. Before I realized what was happening, he let his hands run gently down my lower back and beneath the waistband of my pajama pants. 

I immediately choked and pushed him off me, as a frenzy of alarms went off in my head. My hands hit him square in the chest. I actually pushed my own boyfriend away.

"What?" he asked, more concerned than offended that I had literally pushed him away. I found myself steadying my breathing, feeling like I had just finished running or something. I blinked a few times, trying to ground myself.

"I'm– oh my god, I'm sorry," I gasped, realizing what happened. "I'm so sorry Ryan, I just can't." 

"No, shh, it's okay," he said, pulling me back down to him. His hands were gentle this time, more cautious, and nowhere near my pants. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." 

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, you're . . . oh my god, I'm a mess," I groaned, lying back down and burrowing against the pillow. "I'm so sorry, Ryan." 

"Don't apologize, you're absolutely fine," he assured me. I let a few moments of silence pass between us, focusing on my breathing and the fact that Ryan was right in front of me. Ryan loved me. He would never hurt me. I mean, I thought Dallon would never hurt me, either, but-  _No, stop_ _. Ryan would never hurt me_.

"I don't feel fine," I admitted, quietly. Ryan stayed silent for a while after that. The air was still and heavy with emotion.

"Bren, can I hold you?" he finally asked after a while. His sudden speech caught me off guard, but then I relaxed. 

"Of course," I whispered, moving closer to him so he could put his arms back around me. I needed to remind myself that this was okay, that this was my safe spot. Ryan wasn't going anywhere and I had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I closed my eyes and repeated that mantra to myself, trying to force myself to believe it.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

I decided to take Ryan's advice about talking to someone seriously. Maybe it would make it easier to get over all of this crap if I could actually learn to trust someone on campus again.

Because that was one of the problems I was having.  I felt completely alone at school. There wasn't anyone I felt like I could really rely on or trust if I needed them. To be honest, I never really thought that was something I would need. But I trusted Ryan and knew that he wouldn't have suggested that to me if he didn't think it would help me. 

So that was how I found myself journeying to Jon's office during his office hours. It was on a day that I didn't have his class, but he had said that I was welcome to come talk to him if I needed to. He wasn’t a therapist by any means, but I liked him and he was a few years older than me, so maybe he’d have more advice to give. Who knows?

 I went to the art building when I had the time and walked upstairs to his office. I peered in and saw that he was there, but already talking to someone else, as if they were about to leave. 

I bit my lip and stood quietly by the doorway until he noticed me. 

"Oh, hey Brendon, is everything all right?" he asked, looking a little concerned. My eyes flickered to the guy next to him, a shorter guy with black hair and a bright smile. He and Jon seemed close.

"Yeah, I'm just . . . I was wondering if you were free to talk, but if you're busy that's okay . . . Um, I'll come back another day," I mumbled, awkwardly. Jon and the other guy exchanged a quick bit of silent communication before he spoke again. 

"No it's no problem, we were just about to step out to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to come with us?" he offered, sweetly. The guy next to him smiled, which suggested that he might have been just as nice of a guy as Jon was. 

"No, it's okay, I don't want to interrupt anything," I insisted. Oh god, I felt so weird. The idea of being a burden made me uncomfortable.

"Not at all, come on," Jon said, then nodded in the direction they were headed. I hesitated a moment before finally following them out. We went back down the stairs and out of the building when Jon turned back around and added. "And oh my god, I completely forgot, Brendon, this is Pete." 

"Hi," I said, shyly. "I'm Brendon." 

"Oh, I know who you are. You're only Jon's favorite student," he teased as Jon rolled his eyes. 

"Oh," I said, not sure how to respond. "Are you a grad student, too?" 

"Oh, nah, I was just meeting Jon for lunch today . . . we're dating, by the way, he didn't mention that because he's a jerk," Pete said, shooting Jon a playful look. Jon just attempted to give him a disapproving look, but ended up all smiles instead.

"Whoa really! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Jon," I said. Heck, I didn't even know he was into guys. Maybe I had more in common with Jon than I thought. That immediately took a bit of the edge off.

"Eh, I mean he's kind of a loser," he said sarcastically, still unsuccessfully containing a smile.

"Oh shut up, you love me," Pete shot back, and I found myself actually laughing at their exchange. Jon gave me a friendly smile before dropping his hand from his pocket so he could thread his fingers with Pete's. They were cute together, but it made me miss Ryan even more because holding his hand was one of my favorite things.

"So how was your Thanksgiving, Brendon?" Jon asked me. 

"It was good . . . I spent it with Ryan and his family," I said, making myself sad all over again by thinking about it. I missed Ryan so much and it only been a day since I left. 

"Oh, that's great . . . Ryan is Brendon's boyfriend, by the way," Jon told Pete for his clarification. I smiled as he spoke those words. 

"Oh, cool," Pete said, nodding. We came up on the restaurant they were on their way to which happened to be just a little sandwich shop. I had never been in there before and it made me sad. Over the past few months I had gotten so used to trying new places with Ryan and every time we'd go, he'd always be so good at picking out what to try, or making suggestions about what he thought I would like. I felt like trying something new without him was some sort of cardinal sin.

This, like just about everything else, reminded me of him. I wished spring semester would just hurry up and start so he would be back on campus with me. 

We went up to the counter and ordered our subs. Jon offered to pay for mine as well, but I told him I felt bad enough intruding on their outing and refused. I ended up getting a rather boring cold cut sub and brought it back to the table where Pete and Jon were sitting across from each other already. I smiled awkwardly at them and slid into the booth next to Jon. 

"Again, I'm so sorry about ruining your date," I said, unwrapping the sub from the parchment paper. 

"No, this is totally not a date anyway, you're fine," Jon assured me. 

"Yeah, if Jon took me to a sandwich place for a date I'd kick his ass," Pete chuckled. Jon smiled fondly across the table at him before taking a bit of his sandwich. 

"I'll be right back– bathroom," Pete muttered, before standing up and leaving the table. I noticed the light touch he placed against Jon’s shoulder before he headed out.

"So are you okay?" Jon asked me. I was thankful that he didn't try bringing up any of my problems while Pete was present. That would have felt so embarrassing. 

"I think so, I don't know," I shrugged. "I've just been feeling lonely and you're the only person I can think of that I feel sort of comfortable talking to . . . I'm sorry, I know that sounds, like, really stupid." 

"No, not at all," he assured me. "I told you, you can talk to me whenever you want." 

"Thank you, I really appreciate that, like, you have no idea," I sighed, feeling relieved that he wasn't being all weird about one of his students trying to be friends with him. 

In fact, Jon turned to me and gave me an even more reassuring hug. I felt only slightly uncomfortable, but hugged him back anyways. I inhaled deeply, proud of myself for accepting the comfort. The hug lasted only a second or so and when he let go I turned slightly to stretch. 

When I turned, I noticed Ryan's brother heading out the door. I was going to call after him so I could say hi, but I didn't think he saw me. Before I could say anything, he was already out the door anyway. Oh well. 

I turned back around and went back to my sandwich. Jon asked if there was anything specific I wanted to talk about, but I told him there wasn't. As much as I really wanted to just talk about everything, Pete was on his way back, and I didn't quite feel comfortable talking with him yet. Jon told me he understood.

When Pete came back, he started talking to us about a weird sticker he saw in the bathroom. The conversation was light and friendly, and I didn’t realize it before hand, but I think it was exactly what I needed. Just some friends to laugh with, and not have to worry about too much.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

I had a good time at lunch with Pete and Jon. It was great, because it had been quite a long time since I hung out with anyone. Not only that, but hanging out with them didn’t make me feel unsafe or anxious. Once we left the sandwich place, they headed off to wherever they lived, and I made the trek back to my dorm. Jon was very kind about making sure I knew that I could call him if I needed too, and Pete seemed to fully support that, even though he didn’t know the situation.

But I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that my good mood wouldn't last. Nothing seemed to last, anyway.

I rounded the corner to walk away from the main area of campus and toward the dorm buildings. As I did, I came face-to-face with an eerily familiar face. I wanted to forget his name and his face, but those things would be forever burned into my skull. _Brent_. 

He made eye contact with me briefly before letting his eyes trail over me. Recognition flashed in his eyes and the fact that he seemed to know who I was made me feel sick, especially because he didn’t appear to feel guilty in the slightest. I felt violated all over again; just by the way he looked at me. I held my breath and quickened my pace. Luckily he didn't say anything to me - I didn't know what I would have done if he had. 

Getting back to my room was a blur; all I knew is that as soon as I was back in my room that wave of panic had washed over me and I was struggling to calm down. I felt like I was choking on the very air I was trying to take in. I tried concentrating on taking deep breaths, but it was so difficult. Instead of full breaths, they came out as broken sobs, and my brain was so clouded that I didn't even realize Dallon was in the room. Nothing felt real.

"Whoa, Bren, shit, what's wrong?" he asked, getting up from his bed. 

"He's - oh my god, he's here," I gasped, sliding downwards against the door and clutching my knees to my chest. 

"Who is? What's wrong?" Dallon asked, coming over and sitting next to me. I didn't even care in that minute that I still hated him. If anything, his voice helped keep me grounded in reality. I needed something to remind me that I was still there, and that I wasn’t being sucked into the void of my mind.

"Shh . . . I – _fuck_ ," I gasped, tangling my hands through my hair. I tried to breathe in another deep breath but it was just so useless. "Oh my god." 

"Brendon, breathe, you're okay," he assured me. He tried to put his hand on my shoulder, but my initial reflex was to pull away. "Take deep breaths okay? You're scaring me." 

"I'm trying!" I insisted, as tears continued to flow. It took several minutes to finally calm down from the panic attack, but when I did, Dallon was still sitting next to me, waiting to find out if I was okay. I took another, shaky, deep breath, before leaning back against the door. I felt a little dazed coming out of that whirlwind of panic.

"Dude, what happened?" Dallon asked, quietly, concern lacing his tone. "You just busted in here and started panicking." 

"I saw . . . I saw the guy from the party," I said, barely above a whisper. I stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with Dallon. 

"Which guy?" he wanted to know. 

"The one who . . . who–" I stared trembling again, not able to vocalize it.

"Right," he said, thankfully making it so I didn't have to say it out loud. Dallon seemed so helpful in that moment, but I was still wary. "Who was it? You never told me." 

"Doesn't matter, you wouldn't care anyway," I insisted, sadly. I mean, that was how I felt anyway. I knew that Dallon would always choose his frat friends over me, and that was a fact. As much as I wanted Dallon to be my best friend again, I didn’t want him back unless he was going to be the same, sweet guy that he used to be. Not this bully that I hardly knew.

"Of course I would . . . Brendon I know I've been an asshole, but I swear to God, there is a _line_ ," he said, firmly. "I know the Alpha Sigma Sigma guys aren't the best either, but I've just been _so shocked_. . . None of them seemed like the type to . . . you know." 

"Well, they suck," I said, biting my bottom lip. It was weak, but it was the best that I could muster up in that moment.

"Tell me who it is and I'll go to the president and see about getting them kicked out," he insisted. I frowned and stared at him for a moment. It suddenly occurred to me that he had no idea Shane and Zack were behind the whole thing. He still trusted them. 

"Yeah, good luck with that, they were the ones who let it happen," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I watched as his face contorted with confusion. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

"What?" was all he could manage to say in response. 

"Oh my god, okay, so if you're just going to go off on me, just forget I said anything at all, I'm not in the mood for arguing, I'm _really_ not," I said, in a tired voice. I really was so exhausted from freaking out like that.

"No, I . . . I believe you, Brendon, I just . . . I can't believe they'd do that, those guys are my friends," he said, still in disbelief. I rolled my eyes and wondered if he could hear the hypocrisy in his own words.

"Yeah, so was I," I said, firmly, glaring at him. 

"I'm so sorry Brendon . . . Oh my god, this is all my fault," he said, sounding distressed. He leaned back against the wall and let out a long breath. I watched him, not sure of what to say to him. I still didn't trust him, and I wasn't ready to call him my friend again - not by a long shot. 

"I just can't believe you'd invite us to something where you knew we'd get hurt," I said, venomously. I mean, that was the main grudge I was still holding over Dallon. That was the main problem here. If we hadn't gone to the party, none of this would have happened. I would still be happy, and Ryan would still be in school. 

"I didn't think you'd get hurt . . . yes, I'll admit, they wanted us to bring 'joke' friends, and I'm so sorry I brought you, but they . . . I didn't know they were going to actually do anything, I promise," he insisted, shaking his head. He really did look like he felt bad, but my walls were still up. "Please believe me." 

"It's so hard to," I told him, my throat swelling all over again. The thing was, deep down I missed being friends with Dallon. But the thing was, I missed being friends with the person Dallon used to be, not this mean frat boy. This wasn't the real Dallon. The Dallon I used to know would never put the approval of other people above the safety of his best friend.

"Well, I guess that's understandable, but please . . . p _lease_ let me know if you need anything at all, okay? If there's any way at all to make this up to you let me know," he insisted. “Bren, I really want to fix this.”

"I doubt you can, but I appreciate the gesture," I said, quietly. I stared at the area of carpet near my feet, not sure what else to say.

"Are you going to tell me who the guy was?" he asked again. I took a deep breath before finally deciding to tell him. 

"This guy named Brent - he had like, brown hair and-" 

"I know exactly which guy you're talking about," he said, darkly. I didn't know what his tone meant, but I decided not to question it. I didn’t really want to talk about Brent, I just wanted his wicked face out of my head.

"Please don't tell anyone, okay? I just . . . I really want to stop having to deal with this, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore," I insisted. I stood up ready to lie in my bed, and oddly enough, as I did my phone started to ring. I moved to sit on my bed while I answered it.

"Hello, boyfriend," I said, smiling after I had seen that the caller ID said that it was Ryan.

"Yeah, whatever, you know I get that you're having a hard time without me there, but that doesn't mean you should just go out and replace me," he snapped, sounding angry. It caught me way off guard. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked, a pit growing in my stomach. This was so not what I was expecting to hear from him. What was he talking about?

"Don't fucking play stupid, Spencer saw you with someone. He sent mom a picture so I know he wasn't just making it up. Mom said you looked awfully chummy," he continued. He sounded so disappointed and my heart was breaking by the second because I honestly didn’t know what he was talking about. "You're dating another fucking guy behind my back. Real fucking shitty Brendon, after everything we've been through." 

"No I'm not!" I insisted, worry spreading throughout my entire being. _Oh my god, this isn't happening_. "Ryan, why would I do that?  I love you." 

"Sure you do. I don’t mess around with cheaters. Whatever, Brendon, we're done," he spat.

And then he hung up the phone. 

I stared down at my phone for a moment before dropping it to the ground like it was toxic.

_"Oh my god."_


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * warnings apply to this chapter

The news had me so shocked that I couldn't even cry. I just sat there, staring at my phone on the ground in horror. How could this happen? Why would he–

"What happened?" Dallon wanted to know, concerned by my stunned silence.

"He . . . Ryan broke up with me," I breathed, my voice breaking by the end of that declaration. The fact that I spoke those words out loud was what made the tears finally come. It just made it real, and it hurt more than I ever could have imagined. I broke down on my bed, clutching my pillow and sobbing like a baby.

"What the hell? Why would he do that?" Dallon wanted to know. He almost sounded like he was pissed off about it.

"He thinks I cheated on him!" I cried, unable to stop sobbing over it. Oh god, this was so ridiculous.

"Did you?" He actually asked me that.

" _No!_ " I said, incredulously. I would never dream of cheating on Ryan. He was way too important to me for me to ever throw that away. The very idea of willingly going behind his back–

"Well, what the fuck is his problem, then?" Dallon demanded to know.

I didn't answer immediately; I just stayed in bed, clutching my pillow as if my life depended on it. There was no way this was all happening, no way this was all real. I couldn't believe it. What the hell did I do so wrong to deserve all of this? What had I actually ever done to anybody?

"Apparently Spencer sent a picture of me with my TA at lunch, thinking I was on a date," I sobbed after a few minutes of silence from Dallon.

"So? Ryan's fucking blind, what does that mean?" Dallon asked.

"I don't know, he sent it to his mom or something and she's probably telling him it looks worse than it actually is . . . I just don't understand why he doesn't believe me," I said, breaking down into sad tears again. It was like I was in a cycle of sad tears and angry tears and I just wanted all of it to stop. I couldn’t think about this rationally. If I could have I would have, but everything was quickly slipping away.

"That's fucked up," he said, suddenly standing from his bed and moving to find his coat and his keys. Great, he was leaving me too. The first time I’d really talked to Dallon in weeks and he was leaving me already.

"Where are you going?" I asked him. I wasn't exactly sure why, but I was almost afraid to be alone. Being alone was like being reminded that I basically had nothing left without Ryan. It was the worse feeling I had ever experienced. As dramatic as it sounded, it was exactly how I felt. Trapped. Alone.

"Don't worry, I won't be gone too long. I'm just– I'm going to make shit up to you, Brendon," he said, firmly. He gave me an indecipherable look before finally leaving. He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in an almost deafening silence. The lack of other people in the room seemed glaring, almost as if being alone in that room meant being alone in the entire world.

I stopped crying for a moment and stared up at the ceiling. I didn't know what to do or what was going on with me any more. Everything was spinning, but at the same time everything felt still and numb. It was a peculiar feeling, to say the least.

I thought about calling Jon and talking to him about what just happened, but I had already bothered him enough today. He was just starting to become a friend to me, and I didn't want to risk losing what I barely had left. He definitely didn’t deserve me bringing him down, too.

I mean, everything was so pointless, wasn't it?

I didn't have good grades; I could barely create art in the same way that I used to. I didn't have any real friends, and my boyfriend - my last glimmer of hope - had just dumped me. So what did I even have left? What reason did I even have to keep living? Maybe trying to find that in another person was wrong, but it was all I had– all I could think about.

" _I hate everything,"_ I choked out, speaking to no one. I rolled over onto my stomach and pressed my face into my pillow before letting out a long, pained scream. My entire body shook and I felt like I was physically breaking into pieces. It was absolutely horrible.

I really wasn't sure what clicked to make the thoughts in my head turn so dark, but as soon as they did, it was like I was sliding downwards and I couldn't pull myself back up. I hated myself. I really, genuinely hated myself.

I mean I couldn't trust anyone. I made so many mistakes that I felt like I couldn't come back from. No one wanted to deal with me anymore. It even occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, if I had been a little bit stronger I wouldn’t have been raped that night. That somehow, that was probably my own fault too.

And then Dallon? Dallon said he'd be right back, but he had been gone for hours by this point. He said he was trying to help me, but he didn't mean that. He was probably just leaving because he didn't want to be around me anymore. I mean, hell, I didn't want to be around me anymore.

I pulled myself out of bed for a moment and looked around the room. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do, but then my eyes fell on a bottle of pills on Dallon's desk and it clicked. I remembered that he was on some pretty hefty painkillers after the accident, but he didn't have to use all of them. And they were just sitting there . . .

As I made my way over to the desk, I didn't even feel like I was the one moving my body. The room just sort of blurred out of my mind. Everything felt so surreal and completely unnatural. I opened the bottle without a second thought and dumped its contents into the palm of my hand.

There were seven large, oblong pills left, and the prescription on the bottle instructed him to only take one a day. I stared at them for a minute, letting them roll against each other in my palm. A moment later I dropped the empty bottle back against the desk and grabbed a bottle of water from my backpack.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before tossing the pills into my mouth and drinking the bottle of water as fast as I could. I choked on the water as it went down, but finished the bottle and left myself empty-handed.

I didn't feel anything at first. I just sat there quietly, as realization of what I did passed over me. Was this enough to make me die? Was death going to be better than life or not? How was I supposed to know? Either way, I hoped that it couldn't possibly be more painful than everything that was going on.

In a way I felt peaceful, and that peace lasted a little while. It was bittersweet because I knew I had a lot of good memories, but I reminded myself that it was in the past. I wasn’t leaving anything or anyone behind. But before long, I started feeling dizzy. My face felt flushed and I wondered if it was the pills finally doing something or if it was something else. And of course, right when I started feeling dizzy, the door swung opened and Spencer stumbled in with Dallon.

I stared at them with wide eyes, trying to stay grounded in what was going on but god, it was so hard to concentrate. They looked fuzzy from where I was standing, and the first thing to cross my mind was that I didn’t want them to yell at me for dying. _At least let me die before you bully me for it, dammit!_

Dallon looked like he'd been in a fight, and Spencer was helping him home. Did he talk to Spencer? Did Spencer know that he ruined everything for me? Did Spencer come back to yell at me more? Dammit, the pills needed to hurry the fuck up and get me out of here–

"Fuck, Brendon are you okay?" Spencer asked me. I nodded, so they wouldn't know I was trying to kill myself. I thought I was doing a good job of acting normal. I tried standing, but that was a bad idea because as soon as I stood, I collapsed.

I heard Dallon shouting my name, but his voice was getting farther and farther away. The entire room was spinning, and I didn’t think I could really feel anything anymore.

And then I blacked out completely.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

*Dallon's POV * 

I took a deep breath as I marched up the front steps to the Alpha Sigma Sigma house. I had a million things running through my mind at the moment but the thing on the forefront of that was Brendon. I felt so genuinely awful about what had happened to him. However, I had no idea that rape was a part of their plan all along. I never would have invited him to that stupid party if I had known. That was just sick. 

I barged into the house and stormed into the living room to find Zack and Shane sitting on the couch playing each other in some stupid video game. In my bad mood, it just infuriated me even more that they were just playing fucking video games like nothing was wrong when they had something as big as this on their consciences.

"Hey!" I shouted, cutting them off from their game by walking in front of them. 

"Dude, get out of the way!" Shane scoffed, leaning over to try and see around me. I glared hard at them and made the executive decision to reach over and press the power button on the system. 

"What the fuck!" Zack yelled, slamming the controller down. I knew it was a bold move, but I had to do something to get their attention.

"You knew Brendon was going to get raped that night!" I said, accusingly. God, I was even angrier just speaking those words out loud.  I didn’t even say anything else, I wanted to get right down to it.

"Who the fuck is Brendon?" Shane wanted to know. I couldn't tell if he was just playing stupid or if he _actually_ that insensitive. Probably some combination of both.  I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe I actually trusted these guys.

"He's my fucking best friend and you guys fucking _raped_ him!" I shouted, my throat straining as a more concrete realization of the situation hit me hard.

"Dude, we didn't do anything," Shane insisted. I groaned, frustrated. It was in that moment that the bathroom door opened down the hallway and footsteps made their way into the living room. I looked over to see none other than Brent Wilson standing there, and I swear everything went red. 

"Did I miss something?" He asked, looking confused. I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe he could act this normal, like he wasn’t guilty of something so heinous.

I didn't even give him any warning; I just launched myself forward, and punched him as hard as I could. 

"What the fuck!" he yelled, angrily, obviously not expecting my assault. 

"You sick piece of shit! _What_? You like to rape people, Brent? You think this is a fucking joke?" I screamed, reeling my arm back in for another punch, when Shane and Zack immediately leapt up from the couch.  God, I wanted to kill him.

"Whoa, whoa, guys, chill," Shane said, conveniently assuming his role as president. "You know we have a zero tolerance policy for-" 

"Shut up!" I yelled, causing Shane to hit me with a venomous glare. "This whole organization is fucking corrupt. I know you planned this out. I know you had him rape my friend and I'm here to say that this shit is unacceptable." 

"Oh, yeah, I remember that," Brent chuckled. The grin on his face made me sick. I was absolutely repulsed by his attitude- by everyone's attitude. My dad always spoke so highly of Alpha Sigma Sigma that I never would have imagined that it would end up being a group of assholes to this degree. 

"Fuck you," I growled, before lurching towards him again. 

But the downfall of that was that Brent was a very strong guy. I, on the other hand, was not a very strong guy in comparison. I was bigger than him, but not stronger. So, when I went for him, he firmly knocked me backwards, causing me to struggle to regain my footing. 

"What the hell?" I heard another voice say as they entered the scene. I looked over to see Spencer walking in, completely confused. I glared at him too, because he was the one that caused the drama with Brendon and Ryan. It made me angry, too, because in all of the years that I had known Brendon, I had never seen him as upset as I saw him back in our room. I had never seen him so _depressed_.

"He's the one who raped Brendon," I told Spencer, viciously. Spencer just rolled his eyes, which I should have seen coming. 

"And Brendon's the shit that cheated on my brother," he said, in disgust. I groaned out loud _. As if_ that was worse than raping someone.

"No he fucking didn't," I insisted. "Brendon is like, madly in love with your brother. He was out to lunch with one of his TA's that he fucking sees as an older brother figure or something, okay? I _promise_ you Brendon is not a liar or a cheater." 

"Well this is great and all, but I'd like to finish this," Brent said, looking pissed. I mean, of course he was pissed. I punched him in the face. 

"Luckily, so would I," I said, through gritted teeth. 

And that was about all I got out before Brent punched me square in the face and sent me toppling backwards into Spencer. I swore loudly as pain radiated from me cheekbone to the rest of my face. Fuck.

"Guys, cut it out," Shane insisted. "I'm not dealing with this petty shit today. Dallon, get out. . . you too, Spencer." 

"He’s a goddamned _rapist_ ; it’s not fucking petty," I insisted, getting up again and trying to tackle him again. It was pretty freaking pathetic, to be honest. All Brent had to do was block my arm, grab it, and twist it backwards. I gasped, trying not to resist too much so he didn't actually break his arm. I struggled, trying to at least get a shred of my dignity left.

"I said enough!" Shane finally yelled, pushing Brent away and turning back to me. "Now get the fuck out so we can decide what to do about you two." 

"Come on, Dallon," Spencer said, darkly. He put his hand on my back and steered me out of the building. I was fuming by that point. I couldn't believe that they were actually trying to brush off rape like it was no big deal. They violated my best friend, crushed his spirit, and were acting like nothing was wrong. They weren’t the ones listening to Brendon screaming in his sleep every night from post-traumatic stress.

"I'm reporting them. I'm totally going to do it," I said to Spencer as we headed back to my dorm building. I was still seething

"You should ask Brendon about that first . . . and speaking of which, I'm so sorry . . . fuck, I'm an idiot. Look, I'll call Ryan when we get back to the room and set things straight, okay? Is Brendon there? I'll apologize to him, too," Spencer explained. At least he was able to admit that he was in the wrong. I always knew Spencer was at least a good guy. “It hasn’t been that long, I’m sure we can get everything cleared up, okay?”

We had to take a bus to get back to my dorm room, and I realized I was gone longer than I told Brendon I would be. He would be okay with that, though, once I told him that I set things straight with Spencer. He'd get his Ryan back, and everything would be okay . . . right? I could show him that I tried to fight for him, that I’m ready to quit that fucking disaster of a fraternity.

Spencer and I got back to the dorm room and I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened the door. Something was just off, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

Brendon sat there, looking up at us with this dazed expression. His pupils were constricted and his face was totally flushed. At first I thought it was just from crying, and I felt like going over and giving him a hug because he was still so sad.

"Bren, are you okay?" I asked, evenly. He insisted that he was and went to stand up, but as soon as he did, his legs gave out and he collapsed. 

"Shit," Spencer muttered, being the first to dive to try and help him up. I gasped in shock and moved to try and help, because I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. It all happened so fast. "He's out." 

"What the fuck? What happened? Is he breathing?" I asked, panicked.  _God, Brendon, what did you do?_ My heart raced in my chest as my mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.

"Yeah, he's breathing, but what the- should we call 911?" he asked, as I searched around the room. My eyes immediately fell on the empty prescription pill bottle that was toppled over on my desk. I knew for a fact that there were several in there when I left. My stomach churned as I picked it up, verifying that it was indeed empty.

" _Oh no_ ," I whispered, pulling out my phone as quickly as I could and calling an ambulance. 


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

When I woke up, I felt stiff. My eyes were heavy as I tried to open them, and then once I did I could tell I wasn't in my room anymore. I stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the square tiles as I tried to process what was going on.

There was a light beeping coming from something in the room, and the smell was unmistakably sterile like a hospital.

The worst part about waking up was that I felt disappointed. I wanted to die and it clearly didn't work, because I was still here. Still living. Still breathing.

"Oh, good, you're awake," I heard a familiar voice say. I turned to see my mother coming over to my hospital bed. I furrowed my brow in her direction because I didn’t think she’d be here. Had she really come all this way for me? How long was I unconscious?

I didn't say anything to her. I couldn't.

She leaned over me and wrapped me in a hug, being careful to not mess with the IV in my arm. I felt hollow as she hugged me, because I still felt out of touch with reality.

"Brendon, you scared me so bad," she said, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Why would you do this, sweetie?"

I would have cried if I could, but I was still numb. I hated making my mother cry, but what was new?

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, pathetically. I was only sorry for upsetting her, not for trying to die.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, after a moment or two of silence. I shrugged. Her worry eyes bore into me and I did all I could to avoid them.

"I don't know," I whispered. 

"I just don't understand, Brendon. . . I didn't even know you were depressed, why would you-" she started to cry again. But this time, she was cut off when the door to the room opened. I looked up, my eyes falling on Dallon as he entered the room. I wasn’t sure why he was here, either.

"Holy shit, man, you're awake," he breathed, coming over to sit in near me. He sounded relieved, like he’d been holding his breath for a long time. "I'm so glad- really, I am." 

"Okay," I said, quietly. I felt so awkward, though. I didn't know what to do or say. I was pretty much helpless in a hospital bed surrounded by people who were glad I was alive, when all I really wanted was to be dead. It was so bizarre to me, too. I don't think I had ever thought about death in my entire life as much as I was thinking about it in those few days. 

"Spencer and Ryan are on their way up, they'll be happy to know you're up," Dallon said. I gasped, scared for a minute. 

"Why are they here?" I asked, defensively. I thought Ryan broke up with me. I thought Spencer was the one who essentially broke us up. 

The door opened again, and this time my mom stood up to excuse herself to go find my doctor as Ryan and Spencer filed in. I turned away, not wanting to look at either of them. I didn’t want to deal with their confrontation on top of all this. This was so embarrassing. 

"He's awake?" Spencer asked Dallon. I held my breath and sat up in bed, so that I didn't feel like everyone was looming over me. It meant I had to face them, but it was less intimidating than feeling completely helpless.

"Oh my god, Brendon," Ryan said, holding onto the railing of the bed as he made his way over to me. I frowned, still so confused about what was going on. "Brendon, fuck, I'm so sorry it was all just a big misunderstanding. I thought . . . I didn't realize - oh my god." 

"I told them, everything's straightened out now, okay?" Dallon explained. Memories of Dallon storming out to ‘set things right’ slowly came back to me.

"What happened?" I asked, calmly. 

"Well, I went out to the frat house and tried to pick a fight, but basically got my ass handed to me . . . so Spencer and I came back . . . I explained what was going on, and he said he was going to call Ryan and apologize once we got back to the room . . . but then we found you and you were . . . basically passed out," Dallon explained, his voice darkening at the last part. I tried to ward off imaginary scenarios of him finding me dead. "So we called an ambulance and . . . well, that was a little over 24 hours ago." 

"I'm so sorry," I said, feeling guilty all of a sudden. I hated that I must have been such a burden on all of them. I didn't like the idea of everyone freaking out, trying to save me. "You didn't have to go through all of that, you could have just left me." 

" _Brendon_ ," Ryan said, his voice laced with pain. "Baby, please don't talk like that." 

I looked away from him as he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for me. I hesitated a moment before resting my head against his shoulder and letting him hug me. He held me tight, and there was something oddly comforting about his warmth, but at the same time, he still felt so far away. 

Dallon mumbled something about him and Spencer stepping out so Ryan and I could talk, and I guess that was all right. But at the same time I had no idea what I even wanted to say to him. 

"I'm so sorry, I feel horrible for jumping to conclusions like that, I just- " Ryan started rambling on, his voice shaking, and I could tell he felt guilty because of what happened. And, in turn, I felt absolutely horrible because I didn't want him to think this was his fault. 

"It's not your fault," I mumbled. "You don't need to be upset." 

"Of course I do, I thought you were going to _die_ ," he said, his voice finally cracking. 

"Please don't cry, I'm not worth crying over, Ryan," I told him. He just held me even tighter. 

"Don't even talk like that," he insisted. I could tell by the way that he was speaking that he was crying anyway. He just held onto me tighter. "Do you remember when I asked you to describe yourself to me?" 

"Yeah," I whispered. 

"And I told you that you weren't allowed to speak badly about yourself?" he continued. I nodded into his shoulder. "Well, that still applies, okay? There are _so_ many wonderful things about you, Brendon, I promise."

"How do you know? You can't see me! You can't _see_ how much of a mess I am," I told him, as my own eyes started to fill with tears. It probably made me a terrible person for pointing out his disability like that, but I was just so upset.

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. Firmly, desperately. "You're beautiful anyway. I can practically feel your beauty radiating off of you." 

"Stop lying to me!" I cried, holding onto him. We probably looked so pathetic, just sitting there in the hospital bed, both of us bordering on hysteria. I couldn’t control my sobs anymore though.

"I'm not, Brendon, I would never fucking lie to you, okay? I love you so much, okay?" he told me, defensively. "I may not be able to see you or anything, but I don't need to be able to do that in order to know how good you are. You are the most kind-hearted, patient person I know. Did you know that?" 

"No," I said, stubbornly.

 "Well you are," he told me, loosening his grip on me a little so he could kiss my cheek. His lips felt so foreign. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Brendon Urie. I love you." 

"I love you too," I told him, choking back sobs. 

\---

I felt like I was in the hospital forever, and I hated it. I was starting to wonder why they didn’t just pump my stomach and let me leave. I mean, that’s what people did for drug over doses right? Whatever. But then the moment finally came when they were letting me out of that room. 

"Finally, I can't wait to go home and sleep," I mumbled, as my mother and the doctor stood across from me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ready to go, assuming my mom would drop me back off at the dorms.

"Sweetie . . . we're not going home, not yet," she told me sadly. I looked between the two of them, wondering what was going on that they weren't telling me. 

"Brendon, this may not be what you want to hear, but I think school is going to have to be put on hold for now. So, we're just moving you to the psychiatric wing, okay?" he told me. I just gaped at him, in disbelief. 

"I don't want to," I told him, shaking my head. That meant I was going to have to talk to people and I didn't want more people finding out what happened. That terrified me more than anything. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's for the best, okay? I just want you to be safe," My mom told me. She came over and gave me a hug, and I just sort of stood there, unable to get past the fact that they wanted to put me in a psych ward. It just made me feel like there was something wrong with me more than anything else did.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

_Two Months Later...._

I soon realized that what sucked the most about being unable to finish the fall semester was that I had to retake all of my classes in the spring. I wasn't too excited about that, but I was relieved to find out that Jon was the TA for my art class again.

I was also going to finally see Ryan again. I had talked to him a few times, but really I hadn't seen him since I was in the hospital. I was excited about that, but I was also nervous because we were technically on a break still. I mean, I knew I still loved him and he said he still loved me . . . It was just hard to tell. The amount of uncertainty regarding our relationship had me all tense.

We had plans to meet up after our first day of classes, but I shouldn't have been surprised about running into him before that.

I walked into that same lecture hall for my introductory philosophy class. I hated that I had to retake it, but hopefully it would be easier this time around going over some of the same stuff.

And of course I should have known I wasn't the only one retaking it.

My eyes immediately fell to the brown haired boy in the back row, sitting casually at an empty desk. He stared forward, his body calm and still as he drummed his fingertips against the desk. God, he was as beautiful as ever. I took a deep breath and walked over to him. I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it.

"Hey, Bren," he breathed, turning slightly towards me.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked, taking the seat next to him. The tension I felt released immediately. Talking to him was just as comfortable as it had always been. I could feel myself falling in love with him all over again. My chest swelled, as I looked him over. He still looked just as amazing as always. 

"It's you, how could I not know?" he said, with a light chuckle. I smiled at that. The thought of him knowing my footsteps or being familiar enough still to tell that I was around made me so happy. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm fine . . . you know, _better_. I don't think I'm fully myself yet, but . . . I'm definitely better," I told him. It was the truth, too. While I was in the hospital I had the chance to speak with a therapist several times and while I hated it at first, I really did think it helped me to get past some things. Talking about the incident was the hardest bridge to cross but I did it, and it really did feel good to figure out a healthy way to cope with it. I mean, I wasn't sure I was ever going to feel perfect, but at least it didn't hurt to smile anymore. 

"I'm really glad to hear that," he said, smiling. 

"What about you? How are you doing?" I asked, eager to hear about his life. Surely talking about him would be far more interesting than hearing about my time in the hospital.

"I'm doing well. I mean, hey, I'm back, so everything must be good, right?" he laughed. It was so nice to hear him laugh. I loved his laugh so much. 

"Yeah, everything's good," I smiled. 

\---

After class let out, we were both free, so we decided to just go to lunch. We were already talking like we’d never been apart, so the thought of going to lunch with him was much less daunting than it was before. I stopped at the bike rack before we headed off, so that I could walk it with us.

"I thought your bike was stolen?" he inquired, noting that I had the bike beside me as I walked with him. I mean, he didn't see it, but I'm sure he could hear it. The light ticking sound of the spokes as the wheels turned, the rubber rolling against the pavement. I wondered what it was like to hear those sounds as acutely as he could.

"Yeah, but my mom gave me this one for Christmas, which was nice of her," I said, smiling as I looked over the bike. It really was a nice bike, better than my old one, even. "And it's good because I'm not the most punctual person." 

"Oh yeah, even I can see that," he teased. I laughed out loud, missing his sense of humor. Seriously, life was a lot less dull with Ryan in it. We headed to the edge of campus, to the Thai place that we went to on our first sort-of date. It was just as tasty as it was the first time, though now I had a different reason for enjoying it. 

The first time we went here, I was just absolutely fascinated by Ryan and thought he was the coolest person ever. And now, well, he was still the coolest person ever, but I had a deeper understanding of his love for food. It was connected to his appreciation for the senses he still had, his appreciation for the life he was living. 

I mean, it was something I admired because it was something I was still working on in myself. I couldn't keep trying to please other people, or let my life revolve around whether or not other people were happy with my choices. The only thing that mattered was whether or not I was happy. 

And I was happy. Wearing colorful clothes made me happy; getting paint on my face because I was so into my work made me happy; being with Ryan even though he wasn't perfect made me happy. Reminding myself of these things was necessary in case my mind ever went dark again.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me, pulling me from my thoughts. I smiled at him, my eyes softening as they fixated on his face.

"Hmm?" I said, almost dreamily.

"You just got really quiet . . . you okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah," I sighed, smiling as another thought crossed my mind. "Hey Ryan?" 

"What's up?" he asked. 

"I love you," I said, quietly. He set the forkful of food that he was about to eat back down, smiling almost uncontrollably. That seemed like a good sign.

"I love you, too," he insisted, holding his hand out across the table. I reached out and threaded my fingers with his, enjoying the little moment. His hand was warm and strong and I couldn't wait to hug him after we were done. I truly missed his hugs more than anything.  

"How's Spencer?" I asked, just trying to make conversation. As nice as it was to just sit here holding hands and gushing, I really did want to catch up with him.

"He's alright. I think he said he's trying to join a club sport," he shrugged. I didn't know much about what happened, but apparently he and Dallon were more or less kicked out of Alpha Sigma Sigma. I knew part of me should have felt bad, but I really didn't. More than anything I was happy that they were done with that shitty fraternity. I knew they were both better than that, anyway. "Are you still rooming with Dallon?" 

"Yeah . . . I mean, for a while I thought I was going to have to change, but he's come around. I mean, he did technically save my life, after all," I shrugged, shifting uncomfortably as I recalled that dark time. Luckily I was in a place where I could look back and be thankful that I wasn't successful with that attempt. 

"Yeah, he did. I'm so thankful for that," he said, squeezing my hand again. His voice had a slight twinge of sadness to it, and I remembered how scared he must have been hearing that I had attempted suicide. It freaked out a lot of people, which was something I was surprised to learn while I was recovering. I was fully convinced that I was alone in the world before that.

"Yeah, me too . . . but enough about that, I don't want to talk about that. This is supposed to be happy- we're together again," I said, shaking my head and laughing. I cleared my throat as my voice started to waver with uncertainty. "We _are_ together again, right? Boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, of course," he grinned. "Boyfriend." 

"Yay, that's great," I said, excitedly. "Speaking of which, I'm starting a painting project in my art class and I decided that when I'm done with it, I'm going to give it to you." 

"Really?" he asked. I knew it probably sounded silly to give my blind boyfriend a painting, but I knew he'd probably appreciate what I had planned. It was going to be great.

"Yep, and it can go up in your room, with all your posters and pictures," I said, just like it was totally normal. Because it was. Everything with Ryan felt normal and right.

"That's  . . . thanks Bren, I can't wait," he said, his voice genuine and appreciative.

After a few more minutes of talking, we finished our food and left the restaurant. He held my hand as we walked back to campus and he dropped me off at my dorm building so he could head back to his apartment. Apparently he’d moved back in with Mike and their other roommates.

"I'll see you later," I told him, pulling him in for a tight embrace. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent that was a mixture of clean, whatever aftershave he used, and something distinct that was just _Ryan_. It made my heart so happy.

"Same . . . well, I won't, but you know," he chuckled. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I chuckled, pulling back. I took a deep breath before I asked my next question. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course," he replied, just as simple as that. I smiled and held onto his shoulders as I leaned in. I pressed my lips softly against his, taking in every single moment as his moved against them in response. His lips were soft and gentle, the familiarity of our intimacy flooding back to me. I kissed him a little harder, capturing his bottom lip between mine. I could feel him smiling against me as our lips continued to slide together.

Everything seemed to come together in that moment. I missed kissing him so much, and it was more than enough to reassure me that that spark we had was still there. The feeling in my chest was like this frenzy of butterflies. Butterflies that were still there after all this time. It really hadn’t been that long, but to me it felt like an eternity.

"I love you," I told him, separating but not by much. He smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him as tight as I could.

“I should get going,” he chuckled brushing his lips across my cheek. His arms were still around me, his grip unwavering. I didn’t want to let go of him either. It just felt so good to know that I had him back, that he never really left me.

“Yeah,” I breathed. He grinned but stretched forward again, his lips searching for mine. I happily complied, reconnecting my lips with his and diving back into that wonderful altered state of reality I was in whenever I was kissing Ryan Ross.

Finally, I pulled back, my lips feeling flushed and wet. I reluctantly slipped my arms from around his waist and opted for squeezing his hand.

“I love you, too, by the way,” he said, almost in a daze as he answered my proclamation from a few moments ago. “We’ll hang out again soon.”

“Yeah, of course,” I breathed.

For the first time in a long time I had that feeling where I just couldn’t stop smiling.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

One of the most annoying things about going back to school was that my mom would call me every day to check in on me. It was like she was afraid I was going to go off the deep end again. Which, once I thought about it, was a rational thing to worry about, but still. I felt fine. I just wanted her to believe me that I felt fine.

"Yes, mom, I'm _fine_ ," I reiterated for the thousandth time, cradling my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder as I sat down on my bed to pull my socks on.

"And you've been taking the medicine the doctor gave you?" she asked, in a very motherly tone. I rolled my eyes and gave a menacing glance to the prescription bottles on my nightstand.

"Yes," I groaned. "Mom, I promise you, I'm doing well. In fact, I'm doing _great_ because I'm in the middle of getting ready for my date."

"A date? With who?" she asked, which sort of rubbed me the wrong way. How could she forget about someone as unforgettable as Ryan?

"With Ryan? My boyfriend?" I said, adding a lighthearted chuckle so she wouldn't think I was being rude or something. I wanted to avoid the lectures where I could.

"Oh, right, I forgot you guys were still dating," she said, apologizing for the mistake. I rolled my eyes anyway. "How is he?"

"He's good, everything's close to back to normal now, so . . . yeah, he's great. We’re back together and everything," I told her, smiling as I moved on to tying my shoes, which proved to be a little more difficult than multi-tasking with the socks. "Anyway, I really gotta go, mom."

"Right, right, well, have a good time, Brendon. I love you," she said, putting emphasis on the last part. At one point while in the hospital she cried about how she thought I was going to die without her being able to tell me she loved me one last time. It still kind of hurt. I told her I loved her too and she finally hung up the phone. I let out a frustrated sigh as I set the phone down and I could hear Dallon's chuckle from his side of the room.

"Your mom's a helicopter now, huh?" Dallon asked. I sighed.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged, finally standing up and sliding my phone into my pocket. I turned to the mirror we had in our room to make sure I looked all right. I was wearing jeans with a yellow sweater and a bright blue jacket. My hair was still messy, but at least I tried to brush it.

"You look great, Bren," Dallon said, distracting me from my self-inspection. I turned to him and smiled, his comment actually meaning a lot to me.

"Thanks, Dallon," I told him.

“I mean, it’s not like Ryan’s going to see you anyway,” he chuckled, teasing me as I continued to stare into the mirror. I gave him an amused look and he just shook his head.

“Yeah, well . . . ,” I said. “It’s the thought that counts.”

He laughed again, and I picked up my wallet and stuff before saying I Was heading out.

"See ya, man," he said. And with that I was off.

\--

"Try the baked ravioli, you know . . . if you like ravioli. It's literally the best I've ever had," Ryan said, excitedly as I flipped through the menu. I glanced across the table as he held up the menu the waitress mistakenly gave him, pretending to read it. I chuckled and he set it down, showing that he was just trying to get a laugh out of me.

"Would you believe that I actually love ravioli?" I smiled. I felt like most people would hate having their boyfriend make order suggestions all the time, but from Ryan I absolutely loved to hear his opinion. Any chance to witness that flash of genuine excitement on his face was a chance I would take. 

"You know, I had a feeling that you would," he laughed, still fidgeting with the menu.

The waitress came by and smiled, and Ryan picked up the menu again.

“Can I get something started for you guys?” the waitress asked. Ryan cleared his throat and held up the menu dramatically. He had it upside down, too, which probably wasn’t his intention, but it made it even funnier.

“Um, Sir?” The waitress said, like she wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. She still hadn’t caught on to the fact that Ryan couldn’t see anything. I guess it was really hard to tell if you weren’t paying attention.

“I can’t read this menu,” Ryan declared.

“Sir, it’s upside-down,” she said, cautiously.

“Oh!” Ryan said, dramatically, as he flipped it over. He held it in front of him again, his gaze going through the menu altogether. “Yeah I still can’t read it, I think I’m blind.”

“Oh, um,” the waitress said, getting flustered. I decided it was time to swoop in and amend the situation because she looked like she just didn’t know what to say or do.

“He’s just messing with you,” I offered, and she still looked confused. “He’s blind, _and_ he’s a smart ass.”

“Oh,” she said, still looking unsure of the situation. “I think we have a braille menu somewhere, I could get that for you–“

“No, no, don’t worry about it, I’ll have the shrimp scampi, and my date will have the baked ravioli,” he said, smiling brightly in her direction. She grinned and wrote down the order before walking away.

Ryan turned back to me, casually, like he didn’t just purposely freak out our waitress.

"So tell me more about the painting you're working on," he insisted.

"No way, it's a surprise," I chuckled. I was going in a completely new direction with this piece and I was really excited about it. It was something that even Ryan would appreciate. It was something that he _could_ appreciate.

"Aww, come on," he whined playfully.

"Nope, you'll have to wait and see," I said, making myself cringe. Yikes.

"Oh I will? Well, that might be a problem," he chuckled. I laughed along with him, thankful that we could laugh about these things in a harmless way. I mean, I was working on it, but it was crazy to learn how vision-centered language actually is. I never realized that before I met Ryan.

"You know what I mean," I insisted.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, stretching his hand out across the table to find mine. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I," I told him, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

\---

Dinner, as always, was absolutely amazing. The baked ravioli was just as good as he said it would be. And after we were done, we walked the long way back to my dorm so we could unwind.

Once we were back in my room, we cuddled up in my bed, which was something I had really missed. Just the comforting feeling of knowing I had someone to cuddle up to. I could lie in his arms all day, feeling perfectly safe and content. Dallon wasn't home, so we had the room to ourselves for a while. I lay on my side, facing him as he wrapped his arms around me.

"I love this," I sighed, snuggling closer against him. "You're so warm."

"And you're soft," he breathed, kissing my forehead lightly. He reached up to find my hairline before gently running his fingers through my hair. "And beautiful."

"So are you," I told him, stretching forward to kiss his lips. He let me kiss him, then pulled back a moment. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just . . . You just let me compliment you," he said, smiling. I took a deep breath before smiling and reaching up to hold the side of his face. He was right. Pre-breakdown Brendon would have pushed away from such a compliment.

"It's because I trust you. I know you wouldn't lie to me," I whispered.

"I would never," he confirmed, before moving forward and attacking my lips with his. I inhaled deeply and held onto him, letting him ravish me with kisses. I moved my lips against his, unable to get enough of his warm, sweet lips. He brought my bottom lip between his teeth, lightly grazing the skin as his tongue slipped through. I gasped, holding onto him tighter.

A few seconds later he moved so that he was on top of me, continuing to kiss me as hard as he could. I felt innumerable fireworks exploding within my chest as I draped my arms around his neck.

"Brendon, I love you," Ryan told me, breaking from the kiss momentarily. His voice was breathy and lightly labored.

"I love you, too, Ryan," I breathed, looking up at him and surveying his beautiful face. It was so soft and round and just– absolutely perfect. "You're absolutely amazing."

"I know," he laughed. I laughed too, rolling my eyes as he came back down to connect his lips with mine.

I let myself smiling into the kiss, just so happy with everything going on. It was so good to feel happy again.

Ryan rolled again so that we were back on our sides and cuddling again. This time, Ryan pulled the covers over us so that we were a little warmer. I could have easily spent the entire night like this.

Ryan was about to go in for another kiss when he stopped.

"Door," he whispered. I sat right up and seconds later, Dallon was busting into the room. My face felt flushed, because I was trying to pretend like I wasn’t just getting turned on making out with my boyfriend.

Dallon’s eyes were wide and he was breathing heavy like he’d just ran all the way up here. I gave him a curious look before he caught his breath enough to speak.

"Guys, you've got to see this, there are like, fifteen cop cars outside the Alpha Sigma Sigma house."


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

"What? Why would I want to?" I asked, confused. I mean, maybe it seemed like the group was finally getting the punishment they deserved, but I didn't want to go anywhere near that house. Just the thought of it still made me uncomfortable. I had been doing so well, I’d have hated to be triggered by something at that dumb house.

"Yeah, and I literally can't," Ryan joked. Dallon let out a tired sigh and shook his head. 

"You _know_ what I mean," he said. "But guys, come on, don't you want to find out what they're in for? Is this some fucking karma or what?" 

"It seems that way," Ryan shrugged, before turning towards me. "Let's go find out, okay? It'll be good closure, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, I guess," I sighed, after pondering the thought for a moment. I finally decided to just get out of bed along with Ryan. If Ryan was there with me, it probably wasn’t going to be too bad.

We followed Dallon out of the dorm building and towards the fraternity row. The Alpha Sigma Sigma house was the one all the way at the end, but even from far away I could see the flashing blue and red lights from the police cars. The sheer number of them told me that something was definitely up, and my innate curiosity wanted to know what was going on. What did they end up finally getting in trouble for? I really hoped that there wasn’t another rape incident– I wouldn’t wish that trauma on anyone.

Once we got to the scene, we found that Spencer was already there, and went to catch up with him to see if he had any information. He was standing near the police tape, because the cops had already blocked off the area.

"Hey man, what happened?" Dallon asked, looking on with the rest of us as we watched police officers brought some of the guys out in handcuffs. From where I was, I couldn't really make out if any of them were Zack, Shane, or Brent. I hoped all three of them would be arrested though.

"One of the guys posted to the Alpha Sigma Sigma Instagram, and there was like, cocaine in the picture or something, so they're searching the entire house," Spencer explained, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Who the fuck was on coke?" Dallon wanted to know. Spencer just shrugged. 

"Who knows, man?" Spencer said, shaking his head. “I’m beginning to think we didn’t know _half_ of what went on in there.”

I moved my attention back to the scene when I heard a bunch of shouting coming from the front doors of the house. A couple of officers were escorting Shane out in handcuffs and he was not going quietly. However, they kept a hold of him, unfazed by the scene he was creating.

"I demand a lawyer! You get your hands off of me, dammit!" he shouted, along with strings of profanities. Next out of the house was an officer carrying a box full of what looked like cameras and DVDs. Something about them sent a chill through my spine.

"Hey! You can't take those!" Shane suddenly shouted, struggling against the officers' grips towards the one with the box. 

"What's in the box?" I asked Dallon, nervously.

"No idea," he admitted. “Doesn’t look like cocaine, though.”

"I'm so fucking lost," Ryan finally spoke up. I jumped slightly and turned to him, almost forgetting that he wasn't seeing what we were seeing . . . or at all. 

"Oh, sorry, um, basically they've got them in handcuffs and there's this box with stuff in it," I said, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. I was failing, though.

"Wow, thanks babe, that's helpful," he laughed, only slightly sarcastic. He leaned into me and looped an arm around my waist, though, which showed me that he wasn't actually irritated. I just sighed and leaned into him.

"I try," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm not too sure what's going on either." 

I turned back to the scene to see another officer walking over to us and the other small group that had formed to watch what was happening. He looked a little pissed off, to say the least.

"Excuse me, we're conducting an investigation over here, please head back to your dorms," he said, in a rough voice. "I'm not against contacting more campus security if you don't."

"Yes sir," I muttered in a small voice before the group dispersed. 

I walked away with Spencer and Dallon and Ryan for a while, just trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. I mean, this was great, right? It was the world's way of showing me that the people who hurt me weren't going to get away with it. Everything was going to be okay. 

"Hey guys, I'm going to head back to the apartment . . . Ryan, you coming?" Spencer announced, once we arrived at the point where we had to go our separate ways. I kind of wanted Ryan to spend the night.

"Yeah, sure," he said, stopping so he could say good night to me. 

I wrapped him in a tight hug and held him for a moment before parting with a quick kiss. 

"Good night, boyfriend," I said, quietly. He smiled. 

"Night, Bren, I love you,” he said, sweetly, before letting me go.

\---

"Man, am I glad I left those assholes when I did," Dallon said, lying down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. I nodded as he spoke, agreeing with every part of his statement. 

"So am I," I said, still feeling a little off. Why would the cops be taking away a box full of DVDs and cameras? I think part of me already knew what it was, but I just couldn’t bring myself to come to that conclusion.

"But seriously, I had no idea there were any drugs involved, I promise," he insisted. “I’m clean.”

"I believe you," I told him, softly. "But hey, they're getting what they deserve, right? And it's good that you and Spencer got out because even though you were acting different for a while, you're both still good people." 

"You really think so?" Dallon asked, his voice dropping slightly. I could hear the guilt seeping through his words. "We were pretty shitty to you guys." 

"Yeah, but . . . I mean, I know that it's not who you are, so even though I can be mad about it, I'm not going to hold a grudge over it forever," I explained to him. 

"Is that what they told you in therapy?" Dallon asked, in a joking tone. I gave him a playful smirk and tossed my pillow at him. It mostly missed him, but he humored me and flinched back anyway.

" _Maybe_ ," I laughed. 

"Hey, wow, that was uncalled for," he laughed, sitting up and throwing the pillow back at me. I ducked and let the pillow hit the wall as Dallon joined in with my laughter. He picked up his own pillow and hurled it over to me, hitting me in the head this time. 

"Hey!" I giggled, picking the pillow up and throwing it back. 

"Wow, we're acting like middle school girls," Dallon asked, surveying the pillows that were suddenly on the floor. 

"So? It's fun," I said, picking up my pillow and running over to him. He put his arms up in defense and I was just about to beat him with it when someone knocked at the door. 

"That's probably just the RA telling us to shut up," Dallon chuckled. I rolled my eyes and set the pillow down before I went to answer the door. 

I pulled the door open, ready to just spit out an apology for the noise when I realized that it wasn't the RA standing in the doorway at all. Instead, there were two police officers. My stomach twisted.

"Um, hello?" I said, forcing a smile and wondering what the heck was going on. "Can I help you?"

I heard Dallon get up and walk over to the door for backup. 

"Yes, no need to be alarmed, we just need some cooperation," one of them said. He didn't sound angry or anything, but I noticed he was directing most of his speech towards me, which freaked me out a bit. "Are you Brendon Urie?" 

"Yes?" I choked, nervously. Oh no. "Did I do something wrong?" 

"We're not accusing you of anything, we just need to ask you a few questions," he explained. "Now, if you could please come with us, it shouldn't take too long, okay?" 

"Wait, why?" I wanted to know, my body starting to shake with nervousness. Why did I need to go with police officers? What did I ever do wrong?”

"Were you at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house on November 1st of last year?" he asked, and my heart immediately sank. No matter how far I got away from the situation, that date was always going to be etched into my mind. 

"Yeah," I choked, trying my best to stay calm. 

"Bren," Dallon said, a bit protectively, clearly knowing what date that was as well. It had been quite the night for him, too.

"I'm fine," I assured him, giving a small smile. My eyes flickered from Dallon and back over to the officers, who did seem kind of intimidating. Dallon still looked worried.

"Everything alright?" The same officer asked, looking between the two of us. I nodded quickly. 

"Um, can my friend come with me?" I asked, shyly. It would be so much easier with a little bit of moral support if they were going to make me talk about that night. 

"I was there that night, too," Dallon said, stepping forward. 

"Alright, well then, let's go, boys, I promise we'll make this as quick as possible," He said. I nodded and Dallon stepped back in for a minute to grab our wallets and the room keys. After that, he locked up and we followed the two officers down the hallway.  The pit in my stomach only kept growing, and I couldn’t stop thinking about those boxes.

 


	30. Chapter Thirty

 I sat next to Dallon in the back of a police car. It was the second time and hopefully the last time I would ever have to be in the back of one. I mean, they said we weren't in trouble, but that we just had to go in for interrogation so they could get some sort of information. Still, the back of a police car was a very intimidating place to be.

The car ride there was nerve-wracking and silent. Dallon kept trying to send me comforting glances, but they weren’t really helping. My stomach churned at the thought of having to talk about that night. I mean, I had to do it plenty of times when I was in the hospital. But that was different. Those conversations were with doctors who turned out to be doing their best to help me get past what happened. It was confidential. I had never so much as had an actual conversation with a police officer before.

Once we arrived at the police station, they had both Dallon and I sit in the front lobby for a few minutes until one of them came over and called me to come back with them. I flashed Dallon a slightly worried look, and he returned it with a reassuring smile. At least I wasn’t there alone. That’s what I kept telling myself anyway.

"How are you today, Brendon?" the officer asked me as he led me into an empty room that looked kind of like a conference room that would be in some sort of office. He motioned to one of the chairs and asked me to sit down.

"I'm okay," I said, in a small voice.

"No need to be nervous, Brendon," he said, giving a friendly smile. "My name is Officer Harris, and I just need to clarify a few things, okay?"

"Um, okay," I mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

"So, were there any . . . incidents that took place at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house on the night of November 1st?" he asked, in a very professional voice. So he was going to make me say it first. I opened my mouth to speak, but it took a few moments for me to actually get the words out.

It was difficult. One of the hardest hurdles I’d ever had to cross. A big part of me wanted everything to stop, but I knew that none of this was ever going to go away if I wasn't honest. Things needed to be set right once and for all.

I took another deep breath and gripped the arms of my chair nervously before I finally said it.

"I was raped," I said, barely above a whisper. My throat felt tight like I was about to cry; yet at the same time I felt like this immense weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Officer Harris looked up at me for a moment, almost with a sadness in his eyes, before turning back to the file he had in front of him. He already knew it was coming.

"And do you know the name of the alleged rapist?" he asked, his voice calm.

"His first name is Brent, I'm not sure what his last name is," I told him, honestly. "I could describe him, though."

"Yes, please do," he said, still looking down at the file.

I went on spiel, trying to recall every detail I could. It disgusted me that I remembered him so well. But it was the kind of thing you don’t just easily forget. At this point I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to forget him.

"That sounds like the guy we're looking for," he sighed, catching me off guard. I sat up straight and frowned, trying to fathom what he meant by that. How exactly did he know?

"What?" I asked.

"This may be unsettling for you, Brendon, but when we evacuated the Alpha Sigma Sigma house today, we found some pretty disturbing videos," he said. I gasped and clasped a hand over my mouth.

" _No_ ," I whispered, shaking my head as my eyes stung with fresh tears. I had no idea they had even filmed it! The fact that someone not only found a video of it, but had to _watch it_ in order to figure out who I was . . . it made me sick. "I didn't . . . what?"

"I know, Brendon, but don't worry, once we get a hold of this last guy, after all of the inevitable trials are over . . . these videos will be gone for good."

"No, I don't want anyone else to see," I cried, shaking my head again. I didn't feel panicked or anything, which was a good sign. I just felt genuinely sad and embarrassed. That was the most painfully vulnerable moment of my life, and it was going to be used as evidence in a trial. I knew it had to be done in order to get Brent behind bars, but still. Still.

"Brendon, it's going to be okay, alright? We're going to catch this guy, I promise," he said, firmly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused by the way he chose to phrase that. What did he mean by 'catch' him? I stared across the table at him, my eyes searching his face for some sort of answer.

"We're holding several fraternity members that were identified in the video, however, Brent Wilson seems to be the only one who was not in the house when we evacuated," he explained, which didn't make me feel much better about the situation at all. It meant Brent was probably purposefully evading the cops.

"You'll find him, right?" I asked, worried.

"Oh yeah, I'm confident we will," he said, shaking his head. He seemed to be genuinely empathetic about the situation, which put me at ease. He wasn’t judgmental or harsh, like I had imagined he would be. I always imagined being questioned as something more intense and frightening. "Just. . . here."

I watched as he pulled a small business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me across the table. I took the card from him, and glanced over it a moment before looking back up at him.

"What's this for?"

"It's my card. You don't need to be afraid okay? If you see him again– or actually if _anyone_ tries to hurt you again, you can call me at that number," he said, making eye contact with me. I took the business card and slid it into my wallet so I wouldn't lose it.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that," I said, genuinely. Simply knowing that I had someone to call made me feel a lot more at ease about the current situation. Also, it really meant a lot to find out that I wasn't in trouble for admitting what happened. I don't know why I thought I'd be in trouble . . . but it still felt good. Everything was good.

"Not a problem, Brendon. You're free to go now, okay?" he said, giving me a warm smile. "Do me a favor and send your friend back?"

I nodded and thanked him again before leaving the room to go find Dallon.

"Hey," he said, standing up as soon as I arrived. His eyes were wide like he was bracing himself for another breakdown. "Is everything alright?"

I nodded, though my eyes filled with tears all over again.

"Whoa, hey, it's okay," he said, stepping forward to give me a hug. My head fell against his chest and I hugged him back, really appreciating the support more than anything. It was something I really needed.

"I know, I'm just . . . thank you Dallon, you're the best," I told him, honestly. He had messed up in the past, but he was being the best friend that I needed right now, and I couldn't thank him enough. He was helping me so much in ways that I didn’t think he even realized. It was amazing the wonders having a supportive net to fall back on did for me.

"I know, I know," he laughed, stepping back so I could wipe my own tears.

"He wants to see you now, by the way," I shrugged. He nodded and headed down the hall. After he was gone I let out a long sigh and sat down in one of the chairs. They were uncomfortable and stiff, so I hoped that Dallon wouldn’t be gone long. It was getting really late, but I decided to pull out my phone and call Ryan. He would want to know what's going on.

I stepped outside the building for a moment, so I could feel like I had at least a little bit of privacy. I felt a little off about getting emotional by myself in an empty police station lobby.

"Hey," he answered the phone in a tired voice, and I felt bad for possibly waking him up. Even still, his voice made me feel warm inside, and an unintentional smile started creeping across my lips.

"Hi boyfriend," I said, in a small voice.

"Aw, hey Bren, what's up?" he asked, with a yawn. It made me wish I was there lying next to him. I could just imagine him lying in his bed, his hair a mess as I cuddled against his chest–

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm at the police station with Dallon – “

“What? The police station?” He asked, clearly alarmed and suddenly sounding about a hundred times more awake.

“No, no, it’s fine, don't freak out, okay? Apparently they found . . . "I had to pause a moment so I could stomach the next part. "They found videos of the night I was. . . you know. . . and they're pressing charges on the guy that did it."

"Wait, videos? Are you fucking kidding me?" he groaned. "That's sick. I can’t believe– That makes me so angry, Bren.”

“It makes me angry too,” I told him, even though it was probably more than obvious. I drew in a shaky breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out again.

“I swear to God, I’d tear them apart for you,” he said, his voice slick with venom so I knew he meant it.

"I know," I said. In a weird way, it kind of made me smile, though. Just the thought of Ryan being protective of me . . . it was a nice thought.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. I found it very touching that he was so concerned about me. I really was lucky to have people in my life that cared so much. People like him and Dallon who wanted to make sure I was happy, and who knew my weak spots and how to help me out of them. God, I loved him.

I thought about his question for a minute. It was odd, because a few months ago I would have had a meltdown over confrontation like this. I would have been back in that dark, downward spiral. Yet, somehow, I was still standing. Still breathing normally, not crying.

"I'm . . . you know what? I'm okay," I said, laughing a little. "Ryan, I'm  _okay_."


	31. Chapter Thirty One

Once the investigation was officially underway, I started feeling overwhelmed again. I mean I definitely wasn't depressed like I was before– I was just stressed out. When I wasn't busying myself with school I was either in the art building working on my painting and talking to Jon, or I was at Ryan's apartment. Most days I did both. For the first time in a long time I felt relatively organized, like I had all my ducks in a row. Juggling school and friends and a boyfriend wasn’t easy, but it became remarkably easier when I was actively trying to distract myself.

"And you don't even know when the court date is?" Jon asked, while I kept my focus on the canvas in front of me. I was working on the base of it still; wanting to make sure every bit of it was perfect. It just absolutely had to be perfect. This particular painting was very tedious . . . and that was actually a good thing, because it gave me something to focus on besides everything going on. 

"Nope, not yet," I sighed, not breaking my concentration. I knew he was standing in front of me, leaning against his desk. There were no students in the studio besides the two of us, and I kind of liked it that way. Everything was quiet and there wasn’t any pressure. That, and Jon was able to carry conversation with me without having to pay attention to the other students at the same time. "I don't even know if they've found him yet." 

"Would they tell you if they did?" he asked. I shrugged. I really didn’t know much about how these sorts of things worked. "Well, hey, you know to let me know if there's anything I can do to help." 

"You're already doing it," I smiled, reminding him that he was letting me use his office hours to just sit with him and paint so I would have someone to talk to. I continued on my painting as Jon walked around to see what my progress was. As I felt him looming over my shoulder, I sat up a little straighter, observing the painting as he did. I was more than happy with my progress on it.  

"I think this is the best work I've seen from you," he said, after taking a few moments to watch me paint.  My chest swelled with pride.

"Well, thanks, I've still got a lot of work to do on it, though . . . I'm really excited about it," I said, smiling. I set my paintbrush down so I could look up at him. 

"You know, there's the spring art show coming up, I think you should enter this piece," he suggested. I thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. Art shows were great, but my goal wasn’t to win anything with it. My goal was to use my passion to express my love for a certain Ryan Ross.

"I don't know, I really want to give this to Ryan when it's done," I sighed. "Won't I have to put it in the gallery for a while if I do that?" 

"Yeah, but you'll get it back eventually, unless someone wants to buy it, in that case, it's up to you . . . I mean, you could always just bring him to the viewing." 

"I don't think it would be very considerate of me to bring my blind boyfriend to a  _viewing_ ," I chuckled. Jon shifted a little uncomfortably. I always noticed that people who weren’t used to being around Ryan, or anyone with a disability for that matter, they seemed a bit more cautious with their words.

"Right, I'm sorry, I totally forgot," he apologized, shaking his head. 

"It's okay," I assured him. "Speaking of boyfriends, how's Pete?" 

"Oh, he's great," he replied, giving me a smile that I knew all too well. I knew it because I smiled the same way whenever I thought about Ryan. The shining eyes, the upturned lips that just couldn’t seem to stop. That was how I knew that Jon must have really loved him. And I really loved Ryan.

I stayed just a little bit longer, until I reached another stopping point in my work.  There was a bit of exhaustion that came with working on this one. More thought went into it, more research on a certain style I was trying to achieve. It was a lot of work, but it was for Ryan, so it was definitely going to all be worth it in the end. Just to see that beautiful smile on his beautiful face.

\--

I knocked on Ryan's door, with a smile slapped across my countenance. Seeing him was always the highlight of my day no matter what. And after a long day of working on my painting, there was nothing more I’d rather do than curl up with him and relax.

I waited for a few moments before the door opened to reveal one of their roommates, the tall one with the dark blond hair. I couldn't remember his name, mostly because I rarely saw either of the other people he and Spencer lived with. Not by choice, of course. I would have loved to get to know the roommates Ryan spoke so highly of, but everyone always seemed to be coming and going at different times.

"Ryan's boyfriend, right?" he asked, placing who I was without any awkward explanations. I nodded shyly and he invited me inside. I looked around for Ryan and Spencer but I didn't see either of them anywhere. “I’m Dan, by the way, I don’t think we’ve formally been introduced.”

I smiled sweetly and said that it was nice to meet him. Which it was, he seemed like a very nice guy.

"Where's Ryan?" I asked. 

"He's in the shower I think," he shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter to reply to some message on his phone. "Spencer and William are out and I'm about to leave, too, so yeah. You kids have fun." 

I smiled awkwardly as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He gave me a quirky little wave before grabbing a jacket out of the front closet and heading out the front door. Once I was by myself, I could faintly hear the sound of the water running on the opposite end of the apartment. I had a small internal debate with myself over whether or not I should wait for him here, in his room, or just waltz right over to the bathroom.

I smiled and walked down the hall until I got to the bathroom that I knew he and Spencer shared. I was about to knock on the door when the water shut off. 

"Who's out there?" Ryan's voice called from inside. I felt a bit of a smile tugging at my lips, because of course he heard me, and I just found that so endearing.

"It's just me," I said, evenly.

"Oh, hey, I'll be right out, give me like two minutes, sorry," he shouted through the door. 

"Yeah, okay, I'll wait in your room," I told him. I sighed quietly and walked across the hall to the bedroom I knew was his and sat down on the bed. His room here was so bland in comparison to his room at home. There was nothing on the walls. I guess he didn't really have the time to ironically plaster his walls in photographs, and everything was clearly set up in such a meticulous way so that he could memorize easily where everything was. I didn’t remember his room at home being this organized. Perhaps that just made it easier, I didn't know for sure. 

A few minutes later, Ryan emerged from the bathroom and walked into the bedroom. His hair was slightly damp, and he had only a towel wrapped around my waist. I couldn't help but blush a little as my eyes scanned over his body. He was thin and lanky, but breathtakingly beautiful.

"Hey you," he said, coming towards me. I stood up and met him halfway for a kiss. He smiled against my lips as his hands found my waist. His skin was warm and I could feel a bit of wetness from the shower still on him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

"I love you," I told him, hugging him tight after I came out of the kiss. I rested my head against his shoulder, pressing my face against his neck.

"I love you too, of course," he grinned, still holding me. "How are you doing?" 

"Good, I'm good . . . even better now that I'm here," I said, quietly. "I just want to cuddle, I’ve had a long day." 

"That sounds good to me . . . let me at least put some pants on first," he laughed. I stepped away from him and sat back down on his bed. He moved over to his dresser and I'll admit I watched while he dropped his towel and felt around for a pair of boxers in his top drawer. My cheeks burned crimson, despite the fact that I’d seen him naked before. Once he had the boxers on, I stretched out on his bed, shifting awkwardly to try and make it seem like I wasn't just watching him get dressed. 

"Alright," he said, climbing into bed behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I smiled happily to myself and lightly placed my hands over his, fully taking in his warmth. "So that's what you came over for? Just to cuddle?" 

There was a playful, teasing tone to his voice, so I just smiled the usual smitten smile I had when I was with him and twisted in his arms so I was facing him. He grinned slightly before parting his lips, his sweet breath tickling my cheeks.

"I just want to be with you, I don't care what we do," I told him, honestly. He held me tighter and placed a soft kiss against my jaw. I freed one of my arms and reached up to run my fingers through his dark hair. Our bodies were pressed close, and I could feel this intense warmth radiating off of him, which just made me want to be closer to him. I could never, ever, in a million years get enough of him.

"You're wonderful, Bren, you know that, right?" he breathed; letting his hands roam over my back. I noticed that as soon as he got too close to the lower region, his hands would jump ever so slightly and move back up. It was so small, but it meant that he was still respecting my boundaries, still trying his best to not upset me. Which, of course I appreciated, but . . .

"Hey Ryan," I said, barely above a whisper. 

"Hmm?" 

"I just wanted to say . . . you're . . . you're allowed to touch me if you want to," I said. My voice might have been wavering but I was genuinely okay with that. I loved Ryan and I trusted him and I knew he wasn't going to hurt me. We had been through so much together in the past several months, and he had proved that to me in so many ways. I wanted to be intimate with him again, and I didn’t want some asshole like Brent to take that away from me.

"Only if you want me to," he replied, softly. I studied him for a moment, my hand still gently resting against the side of his face. After only a few seconds more of contemplation I pressed my lips firmly against his. My chest buzzed with excitement as his soft lips moved against mine. His scent was just absolutely intoxicating, just making the whole sensation that much more intense.

"Of course I want you to," I finally said.

"Well, that is good news, Brendon Urie," he smirked, before rolling us so that I was on my back and he was hovering over top of me. I actually giggled as he tickled me, easing any serious mood that might have been there before. This was a safe place. Any place with Ryan would be a safe place.

"Ryan!" I laughed, as he dipped down to kiss my nose.  When he popped back up, he had a hard time keeping down a laugh.

"That was totally lucky, I had no idea where your face was," he joked, rubbing his free hand obnoxiously over my face and making me laugh even harder. Something told me there was at least a little bit of truth to what he said, but he was playing it off as a joke anyway.

Once our laughter died down, though, the mood shifted again. The weight of his body on top of mine was comforting in a way, because I knew we both had control over what was bound to happen. He lowered himself over me, pressing his mostly bare body against mine. It felt good, and it felt empowering to be lying there, holding the man that I loved and kissing him like there were no worries in the entire world. 


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

I sighed contently as Ryan snaked his arm around my shoulders, allowing me to snuggle closer to him. I closed my eyes and smiled as he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. It wasn’t until this moment, basking in the afterglow of sex, that I realized how much I had missed being with him in that way.

"This is perfect," he said, after a while, vocalizing my exact thoughts. His lips brushed against my forehead again.

"What is?" I asked, in a sleepy voice, just wondering exactly what he was thinking about. I knew how I felt of course. I wanted to make sure he felt just as good. I felt so comfortable, like I could just lie there with him forever. I probably would, too.

"This, just . . . Being with you. Being with someone who loves me as much as you do," he said, quietly. I smiled and squeezed him lightly before nuzzling against him. My arms were around his waist, sticking against his skin. He smelled like sweat and sex– we both did, and I loved it. So much for that shower. "You're so patient and so strong . . . I'm so proud of you." 

"Well, I've got you for inspiration," I whispered, against his collarbone. Ryan just smiled and wrapped his other arm around me. There was something even more intimate about post-sex cuddling. It was like his body was warmer, more comfortable. We fit together so perfectly. Everything just seemed so heightened and perfect. It didn't even feel weird or awkward that we were still naked. I was convinced at this point that nothing would ever feel weird or awkward with him, honestly.

"Are you hungry?" Ryan asked me after a while, his fingers wandering aimlessly across my shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged. 

"What do you want?" 

"I don't know, what do you want?" I asked, spinning it back to him. 

"I always pick the food, I feel like I never let you," he laughed, rolling onto his back again, but still keeping his arm on me. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to limit you." 

"You're not!" I insisted, kissing his cheek. I kissed the other one, too, just for good measure. I held myself up a little. "In fact, you do the opposite, and you get so excited about the food and everything . . . I like it when you pick. You like picking what we eat, and I like letting you." 

"If you're sure," He sighed. I nodded against him. "Bren?" 

Oops.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm sure," I said, quickly, catching the mistake. What a silly thing to do. You’d think by this point I’d be used to adjusting like that. But I guess I wasn’t perfect. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," he smiled, tickling me so that I'd jump and sit up. I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, making him laugh. He sat up, too, and I reached over to smooth out his hair for him. 

"You've got sex hair!" I teased, being a little more enthusiastic about smoothing it out. He laughed before reaching over and running his hands through my hair, too. Except he was purposely messing it up. 

"So do you! Here, let me help," he joked. I laughed and pushed him away. 

After messing around just a little bit more, we finally got up and got dressed before going into the main room to talk about what we wanted to eat. He told me about a sushi place that he hadn't tried yet that Spencer told him about, and I agreed that that sounded like a good idea. The only thing more exciting than trying a place Ryan loved was trying a place Ryan had never tried before.

Right before we were ready to go, the front door opened and one of Ryan's roommates came through the door. 

"William!" Ryan exclaimed, making him jump. He had yet to even round the corner into the kitchen and Ryan already knew who he was. He was so cool. After a moment William just looked at both of us and laughed, entering the apartment the rest of the way. 

"Dude, that still freaks me out," he reminded him. 

"Why? It'd be harder to tell if you didn't slam the key in so hard," Ryan teased. I was pretty sure I would always be amazed by how well Ryan could function without his eyesight, and how cool it was that he could memorize something as discrete as the way people opened doors. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," He laughed, setting his keys down on the counter, along with a small pile of mail. "What are you guys up to?" 

"We're going to get sushi," I said, trying my best to be a part of the conversation. I flashed William a friendly smile and he seemed to return it. It made me feel good to think that I was getting along with Ryan’s friends. I had met William once before, but never really talked to him.

"Oh, nice," he nodded. "Date night?" 

"Something like that," Ryan shrugged, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. I bit my lip bashfully as I relaxed against his touch. So natural. "Every night is date night with Brendon." 

"Oh yeah, I bet," William laughed. "Well, you guys have fun." 

"Thanks . . . alright, Bren, lead me to food!" Ryan joked, pushing me forward while his arms were still around me. I stumbled a little but luckily kept my footing.

"Ryan!" I shouted, playfully. He continued to move me, laughing as he pushed me into the side of the couch. I reached out and braced myself against the piece of furniture. "You better watch it, one day I'll lead you into a wall or something." 

"Watch it? Really?" he smirked, getting off of me.  I frowned, disappointed that my attempt at a joke ended up getting flipped back on me. Yikes.

"You know what I mean," I groaned, finally just opening the door. He grinned and grabbed the walking stick he had resting in the front hallway. 

\---

"Okay, I'm sorry, this place sucks," Ryan said, grimacing as he finished swallowing one of his pieces. I looked across to him, then back to the food on my plate. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. "I've gotta tell Spencer he's a _liar_." 

"It's not bad," I shrugged. I picked up another piece of the roll I ordered and I still didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.

"Oh, it's not  _good_ though," he clarified, picking up his cup so he could drink from it. "It's not that fresh. Good sushi has got to be like, super fresh. I don’t know, maybe that’s just me being picky." 

"How can you tell?" I asked. I really didn't know the difference between good sushi and bad sushi, it all pretty much tasted the same to me. Then again, I didn’t really eat sushi very often.

"It's very . . . fishy," he said, trying to find the best way to describe it. I smiled. A bit of a laugh escaped my lips, and he caught on of course. “No, I know it sounds weird, but when it’s fresh, it shouldn’t have that like, distinctly fishy– I don’t know, Bren.”

"Are you still going to eat it? I'm sorry you don't like it," I said, apologetically. He just sighed. 

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Not every place is perfect," he chuckled, picking up another piece with his chopsticks. I thought it was cool that he could use them so well, but I also noticed that he would kind of have to use the sticks to feel for where the food was first. I watched him run the wooden utensils against the plate until they hit a piece of sushi, then he’d pick it up and eat it. Interesting.

I was about to change the subject when I happened to look up and see Jon and Pete walking into the restaurant. What a coincidence! I sat up straight and waved to them excitedly. 

"What?" Ryan asked, noticing my movement. He sat up a little straighter, like he was more alert about his surroundings.

"Hey, Brendon, what's up?" Jon said, once he and Pete made it to the table. He looked just as pleasantly surprised to see me as I was to see him. Pete gave me a short wave as well.

"Hi! This is Ryan," I said, excited to finally introduce them. I’d been gushing to Jon about Ryan for so long, and now I could finally introduce them. "Ryan, this is Jon, my TA for art, and his boyfriend named Pete." 

"Oh, nice to meet you," he said, purposely turning in the complete opposite direction. What a riot he was! I just laughed before I noticed Jon looked a little uncomfortable. Right.

"He's just joking, he's really funny," I said, still smiling, though I nudged Ryan under the table to urge him to give Jon a proper greeting. Maybe it was a little awkward because he knew it was the same Jon he'd accused me of cheating on him with, but still. Jon was a friend and I wanted him and Ryan to get along. 

"I'm sorry, It's nice to finally meet you," Ryan said, getting the message and actually holding his hand out to Jon to shake. I smiled at his charming introduction, because it reminded when we first met and I was just so overtaken by him. "You two should sit with us, we'll make this a double date." 

Jon and Pete exchanged glances before shrugging and deciding it would be a good idea. I grinned and scooted over slightly in the booth so that Jon could sit down, as Pete took a seat next to Ryan. 

"So Ryan, you're in school, too, right?" Jon asked, trying to start a friendly conversation. Ryan grinned in his general direction.

"Yep." 

"What are you studying?" he wanted to know. Really, it was a pretty standard question when talking to someone in school. I noticed the corners of Ryan's mouth twitch as he tried to hide a smirk, and I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. 

"American Sign Language," he said. While I wanted him to be serious, but I knew this was his favorite joke to pull, so I let it slide. I bit my lip and looked to Jon to see how he reacted. Just as I had when Ryan pulled that one on me, he looked very uncomfortable. 

"Now, just out of curiosity . . . isn't that a little, um, difficult for you?" Pete asked, struggling to find the appropriate way to ask the question. He looked over at Jon who seemed just as confused.

" _Ryan_!" I laughed, shaking my head. I nudged him under the table again. "He's just kidding, he likes to make jokes, if you can’t . . . If you–" 

My attention faltered as I caught wind of something playing on one of the TV's a little bit away from the booth. 

I didn’t even notice the television at first, but now it was like it was the only thing in the room. The station was set to a news channel, which had started flashing the headline: 

_"Alleged rapist in ongoing Alpha Sigma Sigma investigation now in custody"_


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically the last chapter. But I do have a sort of epilogue/ bonus chapter to post, which is why this shows 34 chapters and not 33.   
> But yes, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this! :)

"Oh my god," I whispered, my eyes still glued to the screen. My mind immediately went to some sort of limbo, because I had no idea how to process all of this. Should I be happy? Should I be fearful?

"What's wrong, babe?" Ryan asked, concern clear in his voice. If anyone could pick up on my tones it was him, and I was grateful for that.

"They got him," I said, slowly. It was such a weird mix of emotions, too. Obviously I was glad because this meant he was one step closer to getting jail time, but I was nervous because it meant I would have to see him again in court to testify. The thought of being in the same room as him again made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

"You okay, Brendon?" Jon asked, cautiously. He had seen the headline as well. I tore my gaze from the television and came back to the conversation at the table. It took a moment to focus on the people around me, and I had to glance back up at the television once more, only to see that it had gone to commercial break.

"Yeah, I'm just . . . wow," I breathed. I shook my head, still trying to tell myself that this was all just one step closer to being over and done with.

The next few days seemed like they were all blurred together, to be completely honest. I was on multiple phone calls with Officer Harris, I had to get a lawyer, and everything was just in a whirlwind. I was forced to talk about things I didn’t want to talk about. Needless to say, it wasn’t as triggering as it used to be, and I was getting better at it, but it was still exhausting. Stress slowly took over my mind and it almost made me wish that they never caught him in the first place. 

"Shh, Bren, just calm down," Ryan told me, his voice soft and soothing as he held me. We were in his bed at his apartment, and I clung to him as I cried. Everything just seemed to be getting to me in that moment, and I ended up just breaking down. I guess I was especially anxious because it was the night before I would have to face Brent again. I couldn't stomach the idea of seeing him, much less testifying against him in front of people. 

I was nervous because I also didn't have much time to mentally prepare myself. I guess because Brent was being accused of raping multiple people, and because they had a plethora of evidence against him, they wanted to get the trial underway as quick as possible. I think it also had something to do with the university and with PR. Who really knows?

"I'm scared," I admitted, sniffling a bit as I held onto Ryan. He had remained as my rock through all of this. He kept his firm arms around me, gently rubbing my back as I continued to sob into him. There was a wet spot on his t-shirt from my tears. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being ridiculous, I just can't help it." 

"No, shh, you're not being ridiculous at all," he assured me, his voice low and comforting. His lips brushed against my forehead gently. "You have every right to be nervous, but you know what? You're going to be perfectly fine. I'm going to be there, and when it's over, I'm still going to be there for you no matter what happens, okay?" 

"I love you so much," I told him, kissing his chest because I didn't feel like loosening my grip on him enough to kiss his face. 

"I love you, too, sweetheart," he whispered. 

\--

I felt like a ghost the entire next day. I barely got any sleep the night before, and when I finally got to the courthouse, it felt as though I had to wait an eternity before they finally called me to the stand. I shook as I spoke, and every time the judge asked me another question, I felt like I was about to faint. 

However, I did a good job of concentrating on him, and not looking at the monster on the other side of the room from me. I definitely deserved some sort of award for that, because it was difficult beyond reason. But I knew if I dared look over at him, I would fall apart.

When they told me I could go sit back down, I swear I had never felt so relieved in my entire life. My legs felt weak. My arms felt heavy. It was like I just finished an intense workout or something. I left the room and found Ryan, who was waiting for me just like he said he would. He stood in the hallway, leaning against a wall as he waited. I walked straight up to him and wrapped him in the tightest hug possible. 

"How'd it go?" he asked, his arms still tight around me.

"Oh my god, it's over," I gasped, fresh tears brimming in my eyelids. They were happy tears, mostly. Relieved tears.

"Oh no, don't cry," Ryan sighed, placing a kiss against my temple. His hands ran up and down my back affectionately. "Bren, you did it, see? You made it, and I swear I couldn't be prouder of you." 

"I can't believe it," I told him, honestly. 

It probably took longer than it should have for Brent to be sentenced, but when he was, I was pleased to hear that he was being sent to prison, because he was found guilty of several charges. His mother tried to argue that he was young and prison would ruin his life. I saw her on the news because there was footage of her crying on the stand. It hurt, but I think she was just refusing to accept that her son was a despicable person. I went through so much because of what he did and I was sure the other victims had too. Once the trial was over, the University finally came out with an official statement which disbanded that chapter of Alpha Sigma Sigma. It was like all of my prayers had finally been answered and I was _amazed_. 

I thought it was so crazy that just a few months prior to all this, I literally thought that my world was ending. There was a point in time where I genuinely thought that everything was bad, and that it was always going to be that way. Finding out that I was wrong about that was quite possibly one of the best feelings in the world. 

And now that I was out of that darkness, I was surrounded by the beauty that was just _life_. I went to a great school, I had found great friends in people like Dallon and Jon, and I knew that Ryan was someone I was truly in love with. The best part about all of that, was that I finally knew I deserved it. 

\--

"Okay, are you sure you're ready?" I asked Ryan, nervously gripping the canvas I held. He just laughed and told me that he was sure. His lips were still upturned in a playful grin. "Okay, close your eyes, no - darn." 

"Yeah, sure, gotta make sure I'm not looking, right?" he laughed, playing along and clasping his hands over his eyes. I rolled my eyes and let out a lighthearted huff.

"You're silly," I laughed, finally just going over and sitting next to him on my bed. "Okay." 

I handed him the painting slowly, actually legitimately nervous. 

"It looks lovely," he joked, and I rolled my eyes at that one. He smiled and went to put his arm around me, but I didn’t let him.

"No," I said, taking his hand in mine and leading it to the canvas, which was heavily built up in paint. I held his fingers over one of the sections.

"That's interesting - wait . . ."He knitted his eyebrows together for a moment, suddenly seriously running his fingertips across one of the red shapes. His grin faded, and he looked more shocked than anything. "It's red. Is it actually?" 

"Yeah," I breathed, still a little nervous. The thing was, I made the work completely abstract, yet used the paint as a way to add the raised braille letters that also represented the colors. It was a little weird, and I got several curious looks from my classmates. Jon loved it, though.

I watched carefully as he moved his hand to another section. He smirked.

"You spelled 'blue' wrong," he said, causing me to frown and sit up straight. I was about to insist that I hadn't when he started laughing. "No you didn't, I'm kidding . . . Brendon, this is amazing. Incredible." 

"I'm glad you like it," I said, letting out an air of relief. "It took me so long to make." 

"It means so much to me that you spent that kind of time . . . like, wow . . . But honestly, I'm just so happy I finally get to experience your artwork," he said, actually sounding a little choked up. He was right though. I always tried to explain my paintings to him, but I always felt bad doing it because no matter what he wasn’t going to be able to see that.

"Oh, don't cry," I said, making him laugh again. He set the painting aside and held his arms out for me. Of course, I happily complied and scooted towards him. He hugged me tight and I hugged him back, just breathing him in and remembering that everything was going to be just fine.  

"I love you so much, Brendon," he told me, still holding me tight. "Don't ever forget that." 

"I won't," I whispered. It was a promise."I love you, too, boyfriend." 


	34. Epilogue/ Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains smut. 
> 
> Also thank you for reading this, anyone who decided to give it a chance :)

"Is he here yet?" My mom asked me, taking note of the fact that I practically had my face pressed against the living room window. Maybe I was being a little obsessive, but hey - I was excited! It was winter break and I had survived Christmas and all that without Ryan . . . and now he was coming down to visit and staying until New Years! I turned back to my mom and gave her the widest grin.

"No, not yet," I said. "He and his mom should be here soon, though."

"His mom? She's staying, too?" she asked, giving me a bit of a tone. Clearly she was concerned because she was only prepared for Ryan. Apparently his mom coming too meant a whole other thing to her.

"Oh, no, she is just driving him here - Mom, Ryan can't drive himself," I reminded her. I mean, duh. That would be more than potentially hazardous. "That and she didn't want to pay for a flight because . . . I don't know why, she's just like that. She wants to make sure Ryan gets here safe, I guess he’s never traveled alone before."

"Right, I'm sorry, I totally forgot," she apologized, shaking her head. She had met Ryan once in passing, but never really got the chance to sit down with him or really get to know him. Over the summer when I saw Ryan it was because I was at his house, because his mom was being weird again and didn't want him to stay with us for an extended period of time. Apparently an extended period of time was anything longer than a day. So that meant anytime I wanted to visit while we weren’t at school, I had to go to him, which I had no problem doing. But she was coming around now and that was all that mattered.

I was excited. But also nervous.

"Please be nice, okay? And don't treat him like he's blind, he doesn't like that," I insisted. I had probably gone over these 'rules' about a million times, but whatever. I just wanted everything to go well. Just as she was about to groan and say that, yes, she gets it, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. "Oh my gosh, it's them!"

I rolled off the couch and hurried to the front door, so I could let them in. I waited until Ryan was out of the car so I could run out and hug him.

"Boyfriend! I missed you!" I exclaimed, laughing as I wrapped him in a tight hug. He jumped a little, and then laughed before hugging me back. It felt so good to hug him again, even if it really hadn’t been that long since I last saw him. Classes only just let out about a week prior.

"Hey Bren, I missed you, too," he said, and kissed my cheek before he stepped back. I smiled excitedly, practically bouncing at the fact that he was actually at my house.

"Hi, Brendon, it's nice to see you," Ryan's stepmom said from the other side of the car. She asked if she could step inside to meet my mother or whatever before she had to get going. I told her she could and then she told me to carry Ryan's bags for him.

"I got it," he mumbled stubbornly, shaking his head as he maneuvered his way to the backseat and pulled the door open. He allowed me to carry one bag for him, and he slung the other over his shoulder.

"I'm so happy you're here," I told him. He held onto my bicep as I led him to the front door. I noticed that after we had been dating for as long as we had, me leading him places became less of a sign of dependency and more of a sign of trust. He knew I wasn't going to take him anywhere unsafe, and he knew that _I knew_  he was able to do most things. It was pretty much just another couple-y thing, I guess.

"Oh, Ryan! It's so good to see you!" My mom said, nicely, as we got into the house.

"It's good to see you, too," he said, grinning. I laughed, but my mom didn't seem to get the joke, so she just moved on to whatever else she had to say.

"Here, we can put your stuff in my room," I offered. He nodded and followed me to the stairs. I noticed he instinctively reached for the banister and dropped his hand from my arm.

"Oh, Ryan, honey, be careful with the stairs!" Mrs. Ross called out. Ryan just sighed and ignored her as he continued up to my room with me. He was more than fully capable of holding onto a railing and climbing steps, especially if I was right there to make sure, I don’t know, one of them decided to disappear in front of him like Mrs. Ross seemed to think.

"It's to the left," I told him, as we turned down the hall. My lips curled into an adoring smile as I watched him trail his fingers along the wall in the hallway, already figuring out the layout of my house. I opened my door and led him inside. "Here it is!"

"Beautiful," he smirked. I just laughed and went to give him another hug. I would never, ever get tired of hugging him. His body meshed perfectly with mine, and it was the most comfortable thing in the world.

"I'll show you where everything is," I grinned, and then went on to tell him exactly where everything was. "And then, right here in this corner is the bed."

"Perfect," he smirked, lowering himself down onto it. Once he was sure he was actually stable, he spread himself out, like he belonged there or something. I would have no problem with him belonging there. In fact, I pretty much agreed with the assumption.

"Hey," I laughed.

"Come here," he insisted, reaching for me. I bit my lip, keeping a smile to myself before I slipped back to my door to make sure it was shut before joining him. I lay down, letting him wrap me in his arms, and I felt like I could just fall asleep there, right away. It didn’t matter who was down stairs or what I had been up to earlier in the week, everything just seemed to fall right into place whenever we were together.

"I love you," I told him, quietly.

"Love you, too," he mumbled, moving until he could comfortably rest his hand against my face. He was doing that thing where he was making sure he knew where my lips were before he kissed me, so I just cut to the chase and pressed my lips against his. I could feel him smiling against me, and it made me so happy.

I wrapped my arms around him as his perfect lips moved against mine. His thumbs moved softly against my cheekbones as he kissed me.

"You're really sexy," he breathed, letting one of his hands trail down my body before slipping over my hip and beneath my jeans. I gasped.

"Ryan!" I laughed, reconnecting our lips. I kissed him a little bit harder, moving him backwards until he regained control and rolled so that I was on my back. I smiled and draped my arms around his neck before he came down and kissed me again.

I inhaled deeply as I felt his warm body press against mine. My lips curled into a grin against his.

"I missed you," he breathed, kissing my cheek. I shifted a little beneath him as I felt a certain something starting to flex against my stomach. Ooh. "And I was thinking . . ."

"What were you thinking?" I asked, gushing just a little.

"That our moms are both pretty talkative," he chuckled, placing a kiss just below my ear. I shivered slightly. "We could totally do something bad."

"Yeah?" I giggled, getting a feeling as to where he was going with this. "What is it?"

"Well, I think you know," he said, smirking as he reached downwards until he was touching me in a very intimate way. I was already really aroused and I was willing to bet he knew. "Yeah, you know."

"So you're asking for a quickie?" I mumbled against his neck. The idea of doing something like that and getting away with it was just exhilarating.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he laughed. "Unless you'd rather not. You're always allowed to say no."

"Pshh, of course I want to, silly," I said, grabbing his face and kissing him. "Hold on one sec."

I kissed him one more time before I rolled out from underneath him and ventured into my underwear drawer where I was hiding something special. Mostly because I'd be so embarrassed if my mom ever found it. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t planning on sleeping with Ryan while he stayed over.

"Here," I said, getting back into bed with him. I handed him the little bottle, knowing that he knew what to do with it. He ran his fingers over it, trying to find the lid.

"Turn on your side," he whispered, and I did just that, assuming the position of the little spoon. "Also, don't take your clothes all the way off, you know . . . just in case."

I nodded, and took to un- buttoning my jeans, but only inching them down as far as they really needed to go.

"This still has plastic or something on it, can you give me a hand, babe?" He asked, handing the bottle back to me.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, taking the bottle and picking at the plastic seal. We hadn't used it yet because he hadn't ever been to my house before. As I did that, I could hear him unzipping his jeans as well, which only made me more excited. Before I had the rest of the wrapper off, Ryan was already rolling closer to me. He pressed a kiss against my neck as he reached around to touch me.

I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he wrapped his hand around me, gently stroking.

"I love you, " I told him, dreamily. This really did feel like a dream.

"I love you, too," he assured me. I handed the bottle back to him and he stopped touching me for a second so he could take it. I waited patiently as he sat up so he could pour the liquid into his palm without spilling it. I just relaxed, waiting until he was back behind me, the tip of him poking at me.

"You good?" He asked me, sweetly.

"Yeah, I am," I told him. He placed a hand on my hip, holding me steady as he slowly sank in. I bit my lip, willing myself past the brief stage of discomfort.

I let go of a quiet moan as he filled me up. His hand moved from my hip to my lower stomach, so he could hold me as he started to move.

"Shit, Bren," he breathed, working up a steady rhythm as he moved his lips to a spot on my neck. My skin felt like it was on fire. As he kept going, his hand returned to my member, casually stroking it as he made love to me.

I was so caught up in all the sensations that it seemed like all of the enjoyment was ending way too soon when I felt that familiar pooling pleasure down below.

"Oh, I'm close, I'm so - Ryan," I breathed. I arched my back and rolled against him, making him groan. Everything was growing hot and erratic and before I was even ready to, I finished. I relaxed against the bed again, only having to wait just a little bit longer until Ryan was done, too. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.

I sat up and reached for a box of tissues so I could clean up the little mess we made. I always felt a little awkward doing that part, but it didn’t matter too much, because it was just Ryan. Almost everything was comfortable with Ryan. When that was done I returned to Ryan's arms, facing him this time so I could kiss him. My pants were still loose, but it was okay. I needed a minute or two to calm down from that anyway.

"I love you," he told me, in between kisses. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, boyfriend."


End file.
